The Treatment of the Lower Orders
by whatcatydidnext
Summary: This is the story of Guy of Gisborne and Elias Renouf, of their journey. It's a story about love in it's many forms. This isn't a misunderstood, sensitive Guy of Gisbourne; here is an angry, frustrated man. It's also the story of the shy, lonely, but valiant Elias, the second seamstress of Nottingham Castle, these are the trials she endures to have, and hold fast to her love.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood and I don't make any money from this.  
Rating: NC17  
Summary: I know these are not that popular with many people but...  
This is a story about Rape and humiliation. This is not misunderstood, sensitive, good lover Guy; this is angry, frustrated, brutish Guy. Be prepared, although she obviously cares for him, it is painful.

Elias moved out of his line of sight. She was tired, hearing of the debacle that was meant to be his wedding to the Lady Marian, she knew he would be angry and looking for people to take that anger out on.  
She felt for him, he wanted the pretty lady and all she would bring him. He wanted the respect and deference he would attain from such a good match.  
Elias did not feel jealousy; she would never have his heart and certainly never his name. Nevertheless, she had his body, when he wished it. Not that it was always pleasant, only sometimes did she have pleasure, and she was sure he did not know her name.  
At least now had a care now not to spill his seed in her, which she was grateful for. After Annie the kitchen wench had given him a son, there had been a great tado. He had paid one of his men to take the babe to York to be brought up in the Church, but made the mistake of giving the man his fee before he left.  
Arnold, a kitchen churl, told her that the man had left the child in the forest to die, then run off with the money. A gang of Wolfsheads found the boy and spread the lie that the Master at Arms had paid to have his own son killed thus.

But why would he? Many men had bastards; oft times they even bore their sires names. No shame was attached to the father, only the mother; it was the way of things. Annie now had two copper pennies a month from him, and a good position as a laundress in Newark, his son safe in the care of the monks. Not at all what the stories told.  
Arnold knew all this to be true because his brother was now courting Annie.  
The man who had left the child to die had been hunted down and a dagger plunged through his faithless heart.  
Guy of Gisbourne was not a man to be crossed.

The first time Elias had seen him he was on horse back. He looked so handsome, so dark and dangerous that her heart misbeat. She had held fast to the doorpost in her disquiet. He had glanced in her direction, smiled as he turned away. No matter that there was a look of slyness there, it was a smile upon those lips and she had caused it.  
Her fear kept her away from the upper part of the castle. She was the second seamstress, a respectable position that meant she was not expected to serve meals, clean, run errands, or warm any ones bed. She had a worthy trade, the pay was tolerable good and she shared a room only with Amilia, the first seamstress.

The second time she saw him was when Amilia was away tending her dying father. Elias was called upon to stitch a wound, _his_ wound.  
The chamber was hot; he lay naked, sweating and inert. The gash was long and smooth, from hip to knee. It was clean, but the Doctor thought the stitching of it, beneath him.  
She tried not to look at him there, but 'twas impossible not to. The sight frightened her even more.  
Though aware of what was expected, she had only done this once before; she knew it would cause him pain, and this was Sir Guy of Gisbourne, the sheriffs Master at Arms, a man to be feared. If she made a mistake, tore his skin, what then?  
But she had sewn her best stitch, small and neat. A week later Amilia had removed the tiny silk threads, and told her the scar was one of the best she had seen. 

The third time she had seen him was the night of a banquet for the Black Knights. She had been forced to serve as two of the serving wenches had run off in fear. This did not help Elias's own fears.  
Staying as far back as possible, she scurried about, keeping her head bowed, hunching herself over, hopeful that she would go un-noticed. The other maids brazened it out and received wet kisses, slapped behinds and the occasional coin for their trouble, but Elias wanted only to be away from _his_ disturbing presence.  
But fate had a different future mapped out for her.  
She passed the side of his chair, gripping a bowl of figs; he reached for the fruit absently, and sent it flying. Elias stumbled, hurrying to clear the mess.  
There was the unexpected sound of silver plate crashing to the ground and the sheriff's hated laughter as he once again insulting his Master at Arms. Sir Guy stood abruptly, his chair fell back and he was on top of her, a look of fury and disgust on his face. He hauled her away, gripping her upper arm savagely. Elias found herself dragged behind the Great Arras and forced against the wall.  
"Lift your skirt" He had bitten out as he loosed his britches with one hand, his other arm across her, holding her tight against the cold stone.  
She found she could not move, this could not be happening. The smell the wine, sour upon his breath.  
He was not handsome now, the ugliness she saw stunned her. Intolerant of her delay, he shoved the coarse fabric up himself, and was gratified by the lack of impediments. His sharp nail caught her thigh and she winced, the life coming back to her  
"No...Please sir...No!" She tried to push him from her, but he was huge to her small frame.  
He paid her no heed.  
Harsh, callused fingers prodded her delicate flesh, she winced in pain. The chuckle was low and drunken. He bent close, whispered hoarsely in her ear: "A maid are you? Ha, then I will unburden you of that title!" He gripped her slender hips, and lifting her off her feet, forcing himself into her young body, grunting like a beast.  
It was over quickly. Abruptly he let her down and stood back, breathing hard, he cuffed his mouth on his sleeve, sniffed, looked down at her as he retied his britches.  
Her eyes were wide with fear, but tears were held bravely back.  
He swallowed and looked away, then anger flaring again.  
"Keep your self clean...I'll want no other man's leavings." He moved away, and she slumped. He turned sharply back and shoved a coin into her hand.  
When he had gone, she ran to the darkest, deepest corner she could find. There she cried and hid herself in shame.  
It had begun


	2. Chapter 2

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 2

The sun shone and it was hot, too damn hot.  
He hated the fact that people smiled so much when the sun came out, it made him mad. What the Hell did peasants have to smile about any way?  
But it was almost harvest time and was likely to be a good one; there would be money that couldn't be hidden.  
"More for little me!" He said out loud and rubbed is hands together gleefully.  
Vasey glanced up looking for Gisborne, then he remembered that it was the idiots wedding. Damn fool nonsense. He couldn't see why Gisborne hadn't just raped her to start with. She would have had to marry him then, easy! When Marian had a brat or two she'd forget all that bleeding heart rubbish, get ugly and fat and he could have his Master at Arms full attention once again!  
In his opinion, Gisborne was better off fucking the little seamstress in dark corners.  
Vasey liked that. Guy thought that his employer didn't know, but he knew everything that went on in the castle. He'd even watched a couple of times. No finesse that boy, all huffing and puffing, grabbing and spurting, ugh! He shivered theatrically.  
He considered the girl for his own use, now she was nicely warmed up, so to speak. He did sooo hate virgins, all that screaming and pleading gave him a headache.  
She had pale skin, he liked pale skin, and it marked so well. He vaguely wondered where she was now. Hmm could be interesting? He rubbed the grizzled beard on his chin.  
Vasey mused on the double pleasure of marking the soft creamy flesh with his favourite whip, and maybe, introducing Gisborne to this one of his own particular proclivities. He was sure the boy would take to this one. He considered himself to be an artist with the lash; lovingly applied the results were excruciatingly beautiful.  
His birds twittered alarm calls as he stood up. They saw him coming and retreated to the tops of their cages.  
But it was not to crush a Lark between his stubby fingers that he stood. A commotion in the courtyard had gotten his attention.  
Gisborne was back, without his poisonous bride! And looking thunderous! Wonderful! What had my Lady Leper done this time?  
Sheriff Vasey thought he might have to put off his plans for the little seamstress for another day. Still it could help rouse Gisborne's interest in the Punishing Arts.  
Something amusing to look forward to.


	3. Chapter 3

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 3.  
Summary: Everyone has their reasons. Her reasons may not have been so different from his, loss of position, a home, loved ones. Their reaction to those losses, is where the difference is.  
A special thanks to Jen for her 'beta...ering' or whatever it's called. The girl is eagle eyed! 

The heat of the summer's day and the cold damp of winter did not reach the linen store. In the summer, it was Elias's favourite place to work. Only the lack of good light made the mending more difficult, and this she solved by always bringing a candle and flint. As seamstress's they were allowed one good bee's wax candle a month. Such candles burned almost clean, unlike tallow with its evil stink and greasy smoke that would stain the good cloth.  
It was a seamstress job to keep the cloth clean while it was worked, so she kept herself clean. Her mother always said you could tell a good needlewoman by the cleanness of her person. 

She tried not to think of her parents. The pain of their deaths was still fresh. Only she and her brother survived the Plague that summer four years past. Everything had changed then, she and he were left as friendless orphans.  
From the well-loved children of the respectable and well-to-do apothecary, they had become outcast brats.  
The Church took its share of her father's money and property, then the Sheriff took the rest for taxes.  
No one had spoken up for them, not even her betrothed's father, who should have taken her part. He renounced the proposed wedding and affianced his son to the daughter of the miller instead.  
Elias did not mourn the loss of her marriage prospect. Edward was dull witted and like to run to fat as his father had.  
But they had been lucky in some respects, her brother had been tutored by monks in Latin and Greek. At only ten, he was useful to the Church, so they took him.  
She, though able to letter and calculate, was useful only as a serving wench. She found work in the kitchen of The Trip to Jerusalem Inn. A disreputable place, but it was shelter and food she needed, not a good reputation.  
Soon, she did have a good reputation, as a mender of clothes. The whores always wanted their skirts repaired, a bodice tightened or let out, and she was good. Her stitches tidy and straight.

Sometimes they even paid her.  
Elias kept herself small, slipping unnoticed about her work. Occasionally a drunken lout might accost her, but the other women would divert him, and she escaped. The landlord, too, was almost kind to her. He could have put her to work at serving or, worse, as a whore, but he kept her in the kitchen, and she would check the calculations in his ledger for him. 

On her fifteenth birthday, she sent for by the chatelaine of the castle. She was curious and a little afraid, but the women fussed and brushed her hair out of its usual thick unobtrusive plait and groaned at her too-childish kirtle and downcast eyes.  
The chatelaine tutted at her loose flowing hair, but she did seem pleased by the work she saw. The first seamstress was old and nearly blind, her gnarled hands unable to sew a good seam any more; young eyes and hands now needed.

She left to collect her few belongings from the Inn.  
That was the moment she first saw _him_, and tried never to see him again.  
That had been three years since.  
Only there, in the linen store, did she feel safe now. There she could forget the life that had become hers. She could set about her work in the knowledge that, there at least, he would not pass and catch her unawares. Only maids, and seamstress' came there.  
It was a good place to hide. 

The tension caused by the failure of Sir Guy's wedding was palpable. His rage sizzled and spat. The Sheriff teased and dug at the monstrous wound of his Master at Arms humiliation. Those with sense stayed out of the reach. She had seen him vault from his horse as he returned from his efforts to find the Lady Marian. His face, rigid, the muscles clenched tight. She knew he would hurt whoever he could to assuage his pain and outrage. Hiding was her only protection. 

Understanding the Lady Marian was much harder than understanding Sir Guy. The lady had ridden away with a _wolfshead._ She would live in the forest with him, why? The lady would soon miss her servants, her freedom, pretty clothes and clean sheets. He had courted her, given her presents, and protected her from the worst of the Sheriff's affronts. Sir Guy would have treated_ her_ well.  
Now he would find Elias, and use her ill.  
She knew how he reasoned. He could not punish the Sheriff, then he would punish her. He could not punish the lady as much as he wanted, She, Elias, would take the lady's place. She knew it now to be her fate. 

Sitting with her candle and sewed her fine seams in the quiet peace, and tried to think only of the jerkin she was making for her brother's birthday. 

"So this is where you hide from me!"  
She had been sure this was a safe place. Hanging her head, she stood and put down her work, bobbing a curtsy to him.  
"I do not hide Sir, 'tis my work." She tried to keep her voice clear.  
"You knew I would look for you, and you hid." He sneered, his face close to her's. Why did he want her to take his pain? Understanding was not his, so he pushed the useless thought from him. "Follow me." He swung round on his heel and stalked away.  
Elias blew out her precious candle, collecting her threads and needles carefully. The tools of her trade were valuable.  
He shouted, "NOW!"  
This was different. Usually, he would push her into an unused room or corner and they would couple in the cold darkness. He had never taken her anywhere before? Perhaps it was the dungeon. Did he now want her blood, as well as her soul?  
She was amazed when they reached his chamber and he began pulling off his clothing. She stood not knowing what he wanted her to do.  
"Undress." He snapped.  
She had never taken her clothes off for him. He had only ever pushed aside her skirt. Once he ripped the neck of her shift to reach her breast, but never more. He had only untied his britches and braies to have her.

This was different.  
Timidly, she removed her apron and folded it.  
He grabbed her arm and pushed his face close. "I said, UNDRESS! Sweet Christ, will someone obey me!" His spittle caught her cheek. He flung her from him, throwing his shirt after her.  
At last she stood in her shift, shivering.  
"That as well!"  
She was naked.  
He stopped in front of her and pulled her hands away from the private parts they hid. He was surprised and laughed. "Well now, you are fair, my little seamstress." He pinched a nipple wickedly; she winced at the pain of it.  
That made him smile.  
A strange calm descended on him, he ducked his head abruptly and suckled at her breast. She jumped not knowing what he was about.  
"You taste...sweet?" He was puzzled and distracted by her body's unexpected perfection.  
Elias whimpered, terrified of this new road he was taking.  
He walked her backward to the bed. She felt the bedpost cold against her flesh.  
Then his lips were on hers.  
No, she thought, this must not be. His rage and cruelty she could cope with, but...tenderness? Was this another new turn to his wicked game?  
She turned her head from the closeness of his mouth, his followed, she turned again, he followed...smiling.  
"No, do not turn from me, sweeting." His voice was low, the words were not hurtful, but the tone was warning. She obeyed, and his tongue pushed in her mouth, almost choking her. His fingers were between her legs, not groping or pinching, but stroking gently.  
"Oh Sir please, do not..." Elias found herself aroused now, she did not want to be. When he was cruel, she could take his distance, but this? She would want more, and he, in his perverseness would withdraw it, leaving her starving for him. 

He liked her squirming like a virgin. It occurred to him that she had only known his fucking, no caress to speak of, no kisses. Only his prick inside her, and, while at the time, this suited him, now was different. She could have what Marian should have had.  
Let her ladyship fuck her outlaw in the dirt.  
He pushed her slowly back onto the bed. His mouth was at her breast again, and she was breathless in wonder at what she felt. 

"Lie back…I will give you pleasure little one." He sounded almost kind, had she not heard the sting of his scorn there.  
Then he was between her legs, and the old Guy was there, too. She was wet, but not ready, and he gave it no mind. She was there and open, that was all he needed.  
The position gave him better access than usual. His thrusts were deeper, but just as vicious.  
The sweet ache was still building, but she felt like a chained animal, he was beating her with his body. Every surge of his hips was a blow.  
But she longed for that sweet secret surging of her belly.  
She moved against him.  
He laughed and leant back, watching as he pounded into her.  
This was good, this he liked. He would teach her what he wanted, shape her to his needs. She would make a good whore. Her neat fingers could be taught to do more than just sew, that pretty mouth, suckle more than a thread. He chuckled at his own joke.  
For a while, he forgot the gross insult of Marian's desertion. As he came inside his little seamstress, as he watched her squirm and cry out his name at her peak, he was Sir Guy of Gisborne, Black Knight, Master at Arms to the Sheriff of Nottingham, a man of standing, a man of worth,  
_a man_.


	4. Chapter 4

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 4  
Thank you Jen you are a star xxxxx

Elias lifted her basket and stretched her neck. The heat of midday was persistent and unforgiving; it slowed the body's action with a lethargy that demanded either sleep or cooling. Sleep was not possible for much work need be done in preparation of the Midsummer feasting. Elias decided that she should walk to the woods and collect the wild mint for her sacs de parfum, as it was necessary to replace these every month, if the sheets were to smell as sweet as the sheriff favoured them.  
The walk out through the town was dusty. Horses threw up chips of the dirt so hard they could have been gravel. There had been no rain for three weeks; all about her was dry and cracked. The daub on the poorer houses was crumbling, and holes left un-mended, as cool air might seep through and ease the sleep of those within.  
But in the wood, shaded by the overhanging Birch, it was pleasantly warm. She drew off the kerchief that covered her hair and shook out the sweat-tangled curls. More comfortable now she set about her task. It took no time at all to gather sufficient of the profusely growing herb. It disappointed her that now she had no excuse for not returning to the oven of the castle.  
Then she thought of the pool.  
It was deeper in the wood, and't would take her further from the town, but the water was like shaded crystal, and clear, fed by a small higher, stream. Few visited here; Bonmere was the next hamlet, but they now had a well of their own and this ceased to be the community's source of water.  
She turned her feet in the direction of the promised cooling, almost light hearted. A visit to her brother a week before had gladdened her. He was growing strong and sure, attending to his studies and well liked by the monks. He seemed happy. In this at least, she was content. If only her own life had such stability. It would never be her fate to marry, have children, a home such as her parents had. She sighed for it, but it was pointless to lament.  
The pool was as she remembered it, larger mayhap, but pretty, fresh looking. Making sure she was alone, she undressed to her shift and stepped into the sparkling promised coolness. The cold water stung at her legs deliciously. Taking a deep breath, she plunged under the surface. Immediately, what air was held in her lungs expelled with the shock of the icy water. She sprung back up gasping for air desperately. Laughing aloud, she shook her hair, spraying water all about her. She stretched her arms upward to the sky, to the dappled sun, to the God or gods who held her life so cheap, then dived back into the water.  
Guy pulled up the reins and Judas pranced backward.  
"Fan out, circle around behind the houses, he shouted. "You, take three men and scour up behind the trees. I want him found before tonight. The sheriff is offering him his _hospitality._" The sheriff's idea of hospitality for the lower orders was the dungeon. And the punishment for not declaring your ownership of a fine Arab mare, especially one that Vaisey ardently desired, was_ quite a lot_ of the sheriff's hospitality. All they had to do was find the man.  
He directed Judas out through the trees, he was keen to be about this and done. Visitors were expected at the castle, and he needed to be there if Vaisey was plotting.  
He vaguely knew of the pool, it was not a place he was familiar with. But Judas was drawn by the smell of the water. He dismounted and let the stallion drink.  
Then started at a sound.  
And there she was, on the far side, dipping and diving in the glistening, inviting water. He could not help but watch her movements of childlike elegance. They captivated him, the sinuous twisting and turning, the shift clinging to her skin. He forgot why he was there. And hidden as he was, he chose to indulge himself, to witness her play.  
But another saw her, closer by. He too found himself in thrall to the spirit and lushness of her body.  
Robin leant heavily on the overhanging branch, his arms stretched above him, the tensing of his belly at the almost magical scene, causing him to regret his recent abstinence. He closed his eyes and chuckled softly, oh how his poor cock ached for release.  
Elias, unaware that she was observed by any, delighted in the momentary freedom.  
With an unexpectedness, she was conscious that there could be no freedom for her, that this was a snatched moment, nothing more. Her gambolling play ceased. Sighing, she dragged herself out of the water. Stretching her limbs, she set about redressing.  
Guy, from his vantage point did not see Robin, nor Robin, Guy. Each man only saw the almost naked Elias. Both shared thoughts so similar, that there was naught betwixt them.  
The master at arms loosed the clasps on his jerkin and pushed taut fingers of one hand through his hair, the other tried to ease the tightness in his britches.  
Elias drew off the wet shift, tossing it onto a low thicket. She thought to wear only her chemise and dress, none would know as she passed.  
It was too much for either man.  
Guy resolved he would go to her, take her there beside the pool. Cool himself in her heat. He laughed to himself at the absurd truth of it. Her heat would cool him, calm him. Catching Judas's halter, he turned…then saw the figure of a man leaning on a tree, also watching.

"Oh, maid, you are fair. Be you a wood nymph, sprite, fairy?"  
Elias jumped and clutched an arm about her naked breasts, a hand at her mound. _"No...Please...I am respectable."_ She pleaded. She was not respectable, but neither was she for _any_ man to ogle. Bending down to snatch up her discarded dress. Robin let go the branch, catching his cheek on it.  
"Woman, I fear 'tis too late for that. Your charms are stored now in my mind's eye. I will but have to fall asleep, to dream of your lushness." Robin smiled his most enchanting smile, boy like, almost innocent. He had moved with easy stealth and was close in front of her. His hand caught hers from about her body and brought it to his lips. Elias stood clutching her clothes to her chest, transfixed by his gentle charm.  
Guy roared like a wounded lion._ "NO!" _  
And then the thunder crashed and the rain lashed from the heavens.  
Robin scooped her with him under the tree, to shelter. One arm about her waist the other cradling her back, he looked about him, assessing. Saying, with apparent concern, "'T will flatten the crops if it continues thus." He turned back to her, looking down into her beautiful, fearful and confused green eyes. "But we might afford ourselves some pleasure here." Ducking his head he kissed her, open mouthed, but seemingly, undemanding.  
Elias had never been kissed thus by any man but Guy, and never thought to be. Never thought if there would be differences.  
There were, to her amazement, she was thrilled by it.  
His tongue dipped and caressed hers with such soft care that she felt her belly tighten.  
Now a hand cupped an aching breast, squeezing, compelling from her a deep, groaning sigh.  
This must be even more wrong than her sins with Sir Guy, more heinous to do this with a stranger,_ surely?_

Guy fought his way through the under growth, he had loosed Judas in his haste and the mighty stallion merely ambled behind his master, unconcerned. Guy's fury tore at him. The rain slapping at his skin. Blindly he wrenched at any obstacle, thrusting all aside. His face a mask of seething rage.  
_The whore, to throw herself at any cur who chanced by her! And the dog who held her would die, his gizzard slit like befouled animal he was._

Robin's mind loosed itself on the possibilities of lustful fulfilment. Her curves drew his hands, her dark buds with their succulent aureoles, his mouth. Oh, but she was the devil's temptation of man, made flesh.

Elias was reeling, her mind censuring with chastising reason. 'Twas Guy she loved, only he should touch her so. But her body sang at this man's gentle assured hands and mouth.  
_If Guy had never…oh…if she had not…ah…_  
_"You pestilent dog, leave her!"_ The hiss of Guy's words and the point of his sword, caught Robin unawares and he jerked about to face his assailant.  
_"You!_" Astounded, Guy almost reeled. Hood, she was whoring with_ Hood!_  
_"Whoa…Gisborne_, you would strike a man thus diverted? At least allow the lady some dignity." Robin stood in front of Elias, offering a little cover.  
"I see no_ lady, _only a whoring slut of a seamstress. She has no dignity if she gives herself to such as _you,_" he spat.  
The summer shower had stopped as sudden as it had started. Guy stood, dark, even in sunlight, his hair plastered to his handsome head.  
Elias recoiled in horror.  
She was lost_, all was lost._  
How would he ever believe her heart now?  
_"Ha! _She is your seamstress," Robin said slowly, a truth dawning. "And what dignity does_ that_ afford her?" So the rumours that Gisborne had replaced unfortunate Annie with another castle servant as his leman were true. "And, no, she is no whore; I was beguiled by her perfection. I took advantage of her innocent swim to seduce her." Robin was too gallant to sacrifice the delightful angel behind him to his fight with Gisborne. "See, she has scratched me." He turned his head to display a wound to his cheek caused by the branch.  
"You think me _a fool?_" Guy snapped as he leant forward to attack. "Is she in your pay? Is she your mistress too?_ your whore_?" Guy's words were spite filled. "Does Marian know the noble Robin fucks castle menials?"  
_"Does she know you do?_" Robin leapt away, drawing his sword, mirroring Guy's stance.  
Elias struggled at her clothes, pulling them on. This must not happen, she would not be the reason either man died. True, she had not known it was Hood who kissed and caressed her, she had held the outlaw in contempt till now, but she would have no man should die thus.  
"My lord, no, this is wrong. Do not…"  
Guy pointed his sword at her. _"Silence,_ I will deal with you later. Do not think I will easily forgive your betrayal." He turned his attention back to Robin and the men circled, each waiting to see the other's weakness.  
_"Ho, Robin!_" John Little advanced out of the trees to Robin's side, followed by Much and Will, all weapons drawn, awaiting their leaders instructions.  
Seeing Elias and her disarray and position behind Robin, Much sighed heavily. "Would it be churlish to ask what occurred? Have you been_ walking in the woods_ again, Robin?"  
Robin laughed, "Enough to say the lady's reputation is not in doubt by my hand, he lied and bowed to Gisborne.  
The master at arms scowled and swore. His wish to destroy Hood, grown tenfold now.  
"I think we should retire from this fray, lads." Robin backed away, bowing in Elias's direction. "A piece of advice lady, find yourself a more congenial lover. My lord Gisborne is too wont to make harsh judgments. Your softness and beauty deserves better."  
And they were gone.  
Gisborne fucked her then, cold in his anger, simple, systematic, in pain filled torment. No pleasure for her here, just hard, her face against the tree. Regardless of her distress. All the humiliation he endured at the hands of the wolfshead, he sought to exorcise in his fury of grabbing, pinching, squeezing, punishing thrusts and grunted obscenities.  
Her sin, to be wanted by another. Her folly, to love her torturer.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The rhythm of the castle never faltered, cooks cooked, serving wenches served, guards guarded. What ever happened in the circle of Hell that was Vasey and Gisborne's domain, that rhythm never missed a beat.  
Amilia and Elias repaired rents in tapestries, mended and patched the households clothing. Their world changed only with the seasons. Bed hangings to be replaced and renewed for winter, old linen hung, aired and reused. New ones trimmed, monogrammed and finished.  
Elias's proficiency with the embroidery needle was her pride. She was often called upon by the chatelaine, Mistress Jonas, to take care of specialist work such as repairs to the sheriff own clothing. For herself, she stitched fine shirts for Sir Guy and her brother.  
But the extra work, while it made her pennies that could be saved, meant she would work late into the night. Sir Guy called upon her other services too, with more frequency since the day of his failed wedding.  
Others marked the hollowness of her eyes, her fair skin now had a pallor that would give pause to a physician. They marked it, and it saddened them, but they said nothing. It was not their place to question those who ruled their lives.  
"Mistress, 'e wants you"  
Elias looked up from her meal.  
Thomas Crowe, the new man-at-arms, was not happy with this duty. He was a soldier, being sent to fetch his masters leman was not a job for a soldier!  
But he noted as she looked up at him, that he had never seen a whore who looked less like one. She was small, true, but she had a fulsome figure, her face was pretty and doe eyed, but still?  
She nodded and rose from the table, saying only a soft 'thank you', and walked with a quiet dignity that puzzled Thomas. He had thought her a whore, but he saw now she was just a prisoner of fortune, and he knew well the vagaries of Lady Fortune.

"What!" Gisborne flung the door wide as he re-tied the lacing's of his britches.  
"The sheriff is calling for you sir."  
"Gods suffering Son!" He swore under his breath and turned to Elias "Stay there!"  
She was on her knees, naked at the side of the bed. She looked up and met the gaze of the soldier at the door. Pulling the coverlet off the bed to hide herself, she wiped her mouth with the back of her small hand, almost not seeing the look. Was it disgust? pity? lust ? She closed her eyes not willing to allow herself contact that may admit her degradation.  
Thomas saw the bruised cheek and lips. He hardened at the sight of her naked body in it's lewd position. And he was ashamed.  
"Stay on guard till I get back" Gisborne ordered. The soldier nodded and stood back from the doorway.  
Sir Guy shook his head, combed through his hair with his finger. He pulled his doublet straight and buckled on his sword belt. He leaned over her as he slipped on his gloves, dipping to her level.  
"We shall end this when I say so, and not before." A gloved finger stroked her bruised cheek.  
Outside the chamber door the guard stood trying to forget the small well formed girl who waited within. She was not the first peasant wench to be used thus and would not be the last, but... The sound of her soft sobs tore at him. It was pitiful, but he had heard worse, seen worse, he hardened his heart to the sound and maintained his post.

"I will not have this, Hood mocks me at every turn, he's in and out of this place like he owns it! Your men are incompetent fools. I will have his head on a stick! You get it for me!"  
Sir Guy stood impassive. This latest invasion worried him, but what worried him more, the sheriff knew nothing of, and never would if he could help it! He was convinced there was a spy within the castle, and he believed it to be his whore!  
He had come upon her reading documents he had left in his chamber. First what shocked him was that she could read. To be sure she was not fluent, she faltered as he made her read back to him. But she read!  
"SPYING ON ME?" He shouted, his fury at seeing her holding one of the maps was tangible.  
"I only read a little, I..."  
"You read!" It occurred to him he knew nothing about her, other than she pleased him. Anger seeped into his heart. She was here to ease his night with her softness, he had looked forward to a few hours of sensual pleasure in her, now more accomplished, company. And what did he find?  
The possibility that she was betraying him!  
His violence erupted, he roared and swept the wine and papers to the floor and sent the table flying with his foot.  
She cowered.  
Then he turned to her, his face a mask of spite, teeth bared in a snarl, the back of his hand caught her squarely across the face, knocking her to the floor. She crawled backwards, away from him.  
"You whore, do you spy for Hood or just to see who you can sell the information to?" He dragged her up to her feet. "Or do you whore yourself with me to amuse him?" He raised his hand again, but changed his mind and tore her clothes instead.  
Elias had tried to cover herself against his blow but failed. He threw her from him, panting. She fell to the bed, fighting back tears, they only inflamed his temper.  
"I was only curious about the map, it is of Knighton, my mothers home. I would not do you ill, you know that...I...! She could not say 'I love you' but what did she feel for him?  
He was breathing deeply but steadily now.  
"Show me your face."  
She looked up. The bruise was already showing, a small trickle of blood slid from the corner of her swollen lip. His eyes darkened, half closing. Pulling at the laces of his britches, he looked down at her in a way she was so familiar with. Elias undressed.  
Naked, she stood and waited for him to tell her what to do.  
"On your knees" His voice was low.  
She knelt before him.  
"You know now what to do, my pet, to show how sorry you are for not minding your own business."  
She leaned forward and kissed his cock.


	6. Chapter 6

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 6

Summary: The results of Guy's actions come to Elias. Matilda has to tend her.

As the sun rose, Elias leant forward and retched into the darkened void of the sheriff's garde robe. Another spasm hit her belly and she vomited again.  
"Lord girl, but we should be grateful m' lord sheriff isn't 'ere. If 'e 'eard or saw you thus, well I durs't think what 'e would do." Amilia tutted as she stroked back the strands of hair that had escaped the kerchief about Elias's head. "Will you tell 'im?"  
"There is naught to tell. 'Tis but my courses, they are due and always take me so," Elias mumbled.  
"Be more like lack 'o blood, my girl, you are caught and no mistake."  
"Shush, I have said it is not that. Let that be an end to it." The nausea was receding and Elias leant back against the wall, and chewed at her lip. It could not be,_ it could not!_  
"Well, child if it is not, then you is sickening. These three years I 'ave shared room with thee, never seen the like o' this."  
Elias wiped her mouth and straightened up. "Let us get this done and be away from here. I like not to be in his chamber, even knowing he is elsewhere." The two women finished storing away the sheriff's mended and altered linens. Then hurried away, back to the servant's domain below stairs. There was some safety there.  
She watched Sir Guy ride away with the sheriff and a small retinue of soldiers, and she winced at her thoughts. It was a babe, she knew it. These last few days she had felt her breast swell, become tender. The smells of the kitchen had grown loathsome to her.  
He had spilled uncaringly inside her that dreadful day beside the pool, so much  
anger he had in him. A child conceived of his fury and jealousy. The notion was painful to her.  
No, it was not jealousy, she thought. It was covetousness. He owned her and another used her. If it were jealousy… then perhaps he might care for her, might care for their child?  
No, and he would ever know of it. She would go in secret, never see him more. Bring her child into the world alone if needs be. She would have no monastery or convent take her babe from her at his behest. Aye, she would lose him forever, but she would have their child to love, see that poor mite grow up with a loving mother, grow straight and honourable. Poor, to be sure, but good, right thinking. That belief cheered her. She could do this thing; she could earn their bread by her skills. 'Twas not impossible. For her child, she would endure anything.

Amilia watched Elias fall as she crossed the courtyard inside the gates, saw the look of bewildered pain as she clutched at her belly and crumpled to the ground. Soon a crowd of fellow servants had gathered. Thomas Crowe pushed through and looked to Amilia.  
"She sickens, a slight fever, 'tis all."  
He nodded and lifted Elias as if she were a child. He carried her from the sight of others, in to the cool gloom of the castle.  
There were mutterings among the other servants.  
'Did 'e beat 'er again?'  
'Poor lass.'  
'The whore gets what she deserves.'  
"She bleeds." Was all Crowe said as he laid her on her small bed. "Does he know of it?"  
"Would 'e care if 'e did?" Amilia said sourly.  
Crowe shrugged and sighed. "I'll get the saw-a-bones then?"  
"An' what'll 'e do? She is with child, poor love. 'twill not come t' term," she whispered. "I'll give 'er pennyroyal for the pain, a tisane of valerian t' make 'er sleep."  
Crowe's jaw tightened.  
"Leave 'er wi' me. I'll see 'er right."

For a day, she bled and cried. For another, she merely cried. By the third day, she lay silent, watching the play of light upon the wall. She had seen eighteen summers, and no hope was left in her for her life. She loved a man who thought her a whore and punished her accordingly. Her sins were great indeed, that God and his Holy Mother abandoned her so, to take even _this tiny thing_ from her.

Guy threw his sword and its belt onto a chair. He pulled at the clasps on his doublet. "I want the tub brought and_ hot_ water, mind." He rolled his aching shoulders and flexed at the tiredness in his muscles. He thought of the small hands that eased the strain so often, how she rubbed his feet and calmed him. He smiled. "Send the girl to me." He had not forgotten Hood, but his need of her tranquil ministrations was greater than his desire to punish her more.  
"She is sick, my lord," Crowe spoke soft.  
Guy shook his head, as if not hearing clear. "You say what man? She is…?" He looked puzzled.  
"Sick, my lord. She fell in a faint a sennight past, and recovers slow."  
Guy could not comprehend the man. He held he had used her…badly, but could she be so unwell from it?  
He needed her now; she was his…his what?  
"My lord, the sheriff demands you attend on him this minute." A breathless squire fell to his knee and looked frightened.  
Guy looked from Crowe to the squire. He frowned, and then cursed. _"Blood of Christ, _what next?" Taking a silver piece from his pouch, and held it out to Crowe, then thought again and took a gold piece from his money chest and gave him that in its stead. "Get that woman, Martha? Mary is it? Matilda? Get Matilda to her. Tell her, the girl is to receive the best of care. Tell her I will know if she cheats me." Gisborne buckled his sword back on, and strode from the room.

"Well child, this is what comes of letting a beast like Gisborne into your bed. Or you getting into his, I suppose." Matilda shrugged as she washed her hands.  
"You do not know him. There is more than you see," Elias said quietly.  
"Oh, well, that's a'right then._ I do not know him!_ So it is no matter that his cock tears your cunny, 'e uses your body like it were naught but a piece of meat, and then puts a babe in you," the older woman snapped angrily. She had seen the bruises at the girl's hips, thighs and breasts.  
"'Tis not always so. He is oft times gentle, and…" Elias turned from her, she sighed. "Will I carry again, or is the damage too great?"  
"The damage he does is in your heart, that you excuse his treatment of you," Matilda said with disgust. She was not known for her patience with men and their appetites. Yet the look of sadness she saw clipped her compassion. "No, the damage will not prevent another child. Provide you abstain a month, see your next bleed. Then it should be well." She stroked the young girl's cheek. "You be aged with my girl." And girls will let their hearts be captured by the most unworthy men. "Do you truly love him? This man who does such things to you?"  
"Sometimes there is lightness to him, he is like a boy. Sometimes, a loving gentleness. I have seen him in tortured sleep, held him till he calms. How could I not love him?"

"Are you well now?" Guy did not look at her, but studied his hands instead.  
Elias stood quickly and bobbed a curtsy to him."I am better, my lord." She would not speak of the child that was no more. It would serve them nothing.  
He looked at her at last, she was very pale and there was a frailty about her. Yet she stood straight, finer than he. He glimpsed it, the quality he knew he lacked. Reaching for her, he let his fingers slide up her throat, till they met her lips.  
"Never betray me." He whispered, softly. There was no menace there, but perhaps a plea?  
She moved to speak, but he pressed his finger gently on her lips.  
"I know you did not entice Hood. I accept that he saw what I saw," he sighed. "And lusted, as did I. But…" There was a feeling he could not identify, a feeling in his breast that he could not describe or understand. She was his concubine, his leman. She eased an ache, nothing more. He did not want to examine further. Pulling himself to his full height, he shook the introspection from him. "I am not to trouble you for a month. Matilda has ordered it. The advice cost me a gold piece, so I needs must take it." He turned from her and walked away. Setting his course aright, his future was to be attended to.  
The Lady Marian was due and he must be there to greet her, to begin his courtship anew.


	7. Chapter 7

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 7  
Summary: It's very cold...Guy finds a way to warm up, and Elias complies.

Even in the depth of the castle, everything froze. Braziers and fires burned in all the chambers used by the sheriff, his guests and his master at arms, but for the servant, only the kitchens offered real heat, too much usually.  
The cook would be stripped to the waist, the boy who turned the spit, naked. There, the usual stuffy clamour and noisesome bustle was aggravated by the house servants and soldier, seeking to ease their frozen hands and feet. The advance of the Yule festivities had increased the activities of the kitchen churls a hundred fold and all was overpowering. The place stank of burnt meats and sweat.  
Elias delivered the clean and mended aprons, the tiny muslins, bags for bouquet garni, shaped and hemmed for straining and covers. She hurried away from the chaos that reigned, and headed instead for the laundry. The fires burned there to heat the water, it was not as hot as the kitchen, but more bearable, and it was near the linen store, her usual workplace now.  
Wrapping her knitted grey shawl tightly about her and tying it at her back, she breathed absently on her frozen fingers. It was nearly Christmastide and the cold weather would be about them for months to come. It seemed as if it would never cease. It was rare for her to leave the castle now, for all outside was ice and mud.  
She had become more fastidious about her few clothes and person. Neat and clean, she needed to be neat and clean. Housewifely virtues might out weigh her whoredom to Sir Guy.  
For whoredom it was. Still he took her, as his urges took him. But it had changed between them. The loss of their child, had given Elias a glimpse of something more. She accepted her position, but a secret part of her had begun to long for a peace he would not give her.  
Guy's demands were different since her indisposition, and the renewal of his courtship of Lady Marian. Gone were the couplings in darkened rooms or shadowed corners, and the sudden violence was less.  
If he came upon her, he would stroke her, brush his lips about her neck, cup her breasts, then tell her to await him in his chamber. Occasionally he was rough still, occasionally all sweetness. Still, she could have been any tavern wench who pleased him, not Elias Renouf, second seamstress.  
Now he seemed to take some small pleasure in her pleasure. Sometimes he would bring her to her peak and find amusement in her cries and moans, sometimes.  
He still struck her, though not often, and then only when the sheriff had goaded and insulted him to the point of fury. Men beat their women, 'twas a fact, the way of the world.  
Reaching the palisade, she hastened her step. Open to the elements as it was, the freezing dampness was worse here.  
The voices and the sound of spurs upon the stone floor, made her step to the wall and bow her head.  
"Yes, my lord, he seems to be content to allow…" Sir Guy glanced at her, but offered no acknowledgement. She bobbed a curtsy and waited 'till they passed.  
Vaisey saw the look and smirked. "Fuck her in your own time, Gisborne." Vaisey said casually over his shoulder. "Will he be here for the feasting? I want to know how my lord Wessex intends to blow, hot or more cold?"  
Sir Guy's jaw tightened as they passed her. Elias hurried away, more than ever determined to find some tranquil comfort.

Darkness was looming, the weak afternoon sun was pallid, undeserving of its name.  
Elias had finished her duties, quit the steam-heated laundry, and thought to eat her bread and cheese in the last of the daylight. She stopped to watch a bumptious robin that landed on the sill. It made her smile to see the tiny bird strut and preen. Crumbling a corner of her bread, she drizzled the tasty morsels in a small trail. The confident little bird hopped and feasted close to.  
"Ha, to him you feed a banquet, but me, you starve." Guy was hard against her back. He pushed the shawl away, ducked his head and suckled at her nape.  
Elias gasped. She had been unprepared.  
Then he was moving, she was unsure what he was about, but she waited, longing alight in her now. Then she knew he had removed his gloves. Chill fingertips slipped about her neck and under the grey shawl. They stole their icy way down to caress her breast.  
Her low groan was met by his hiss of contentment.  
"Your flesh heats mine so well…" His other hand joined the fray, now cradling the other fulsome globe.  
She was cupped by cold palms that caused her loins to smoulder. Squeezing softly, Guy laughed and whispered, "I should take you with me when I ride, to ease the cold." He sighed against her hair.  
She closed her eyes and moved back upon him, rolling her hips in a way she knew would entice him more.  
Ah, what whore's tricks she used now. The shameful thoughts that flooded her mind appalled her. She no longer went to confession. When she told the priest of her rape and then Guy's continued attention, he had absolved her, ten Hail Mary's and the promise she would endeavour not to sin with him again had been her penance. Then she confessed her need for Guy's touch, her longing for his nearness. The priest had condemned her as the whore of Babylon and told her the only chance of redemption was servitude in a nunnery. Now she went only to Mass, and did not partake of the communion, she was not in a state of grace.  
It always puzzled her to be called a whore, after all Sir Guy paid her no money. No special favours came her way, except occasionally to eat fine foods with him, mayhap sleep in his bed.  
"I would have you in my chamber, to reheat the rest of me."  
She hardly heard him. The sensation of his freezing fingers on her flushed, swelling breasts, drove rational thought from her. She gloried in his touch.  
Guy laughed quietly. "Ah, my little one, do you like my hands upon you now?" He pinched delicately.  
She breathed, "Yes…yes, my lord, I do."  
Later, in his overheated chamber, as their sweat slicked bodies slid in glorious rhythm, he thought strangely, that the fires of wood crackling in the hearth and brazier did not warm him.  
She did.


	8. Chapter 8

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 8

Sheriff Vaisey put his booted feet on the table, pushed back in his seat and considered them, leaning his head from side to side pondering as his man servant polished the leather to a dull shine.  
"You're not very good at this are you?" He swiped several times at the servant, who stood and waited till the blows ceased, and then resumed the polishing.  
Vaisey was bored, the week had not proceeded as he had intended, the Hood thing was still not resolved, Gisborne was mooning about over his various lepers. One, the annoying one, had run off to a convent or somewhere, and the other, well... she had his master-at-arms all fired up about something? Then there was Prince John's latest demand for more money. Vasey was good at getting the money, but really he was a victim of his own success. Sad but true, the more he collected the more the Prince found he needed. He sighed and kicked the manservant away. 

Gisborne entered the room briskly.  
"My lord, the new grain store is finished and is being filled as we speak. I took the liberty of having the locks reinforced; I don't think we'll have a repeat of last year. Now the harvest is in we should have no more problems with the millers." Gisborne spoke rapidly, pleased that at least one task was completed without a hitch.  
"Oh and you do seem so happy with that my boy. Grains safe is it? Oh _goody, goody!"_ The sheriff stood and wandered over to his birds, they shrieked and fluttered madly at his approach.  
"What's that girl of yours up to?" His voice was sly, deceptively pleasant.  
"What girl my lord?" Gisborne swallowed and looked away from his employer.  
"What girl my lord?" The older man mimicked nastily. "The one you actually fuck, Gisborne, the charming little creamy one, she sews or something?"  
"My lord...I ..." Guy faltered; the sheriff knew about his little seamstress, did he have suspicions about her?  
"Is she any good? Does she... scream much?"  
"Scream, my lord?" Guy looked puzzled, what was Vaisey asking?  
"When you fuck her, does she scream? It's not that hard...oh yes hard, yes, yes, I like that," The sheriff laughed at his own joke. Gisborne just rolled his eyes.  
"She is discreet, my lord." He said smugly. He'd never thought of it before, but it was true. Also he realised he did not know her name. It had never mattered, but somehow, now it did.  
"Eww, Discreet, Oh yes you are liking her, aren't you!" He rubbed his stubby hands together. "Yes I know what you mean though; I've seen her, carries herself well, almost...as if she was well born. She's not is she? I don't want any nonsense from outraged minor gentlemen."  
"I do not know my lord"  
"No I suppose not, your not really the conversational type are you?" He nudged and winked at the faintly embarrassed Gisbourne.  
" Well, I want her for a few days, I have a new selection of materiel flageller I want to try out, and I think she would do very nicely."  
"Flageller...whips? My lord...I..."  
"Do you fancy being there? It's a very subtle pleasure, quite artistic really. Every stroke must be precisely placed, just the right force...Oh very...rewarding. You would enjoy it, I promise. You get to have her after. That's almost the best bit, when they are..." Vaisey's eyes were almost misty at the prospect.  
Gisborne found he didn't want Vaisey touching her. Not with a whip, _not with anything!_ It did not matter that he had struck her, that had been in anger, frustration at...well he had reasons, but this was not to his taste at all. He did not want another man touching her.  
"I believe she is at Knighton my lord, helping the lady Marian." It was a lie but it was all he could come up with at such short notice.  
"I thought Marian was at Kirklees hiding from you?" Vasey was annoyed now.  
"No my lord, she is back in her fathers house. And I now respect her decision over our marriage." He lied gritting his teeth. At least he knew he could trust Marian to hide... what_ was_ her name?  
"Oooh, I was really looking forward to that. Oh well another time perhaps?" The sheriff became quiet. Gisborne judged it time to retire and get his leman into hiding. 

Out side the chamber, once the door was firmly shut, Gisborne looked about him.  
"The new man, where is he?"  
"Crowe sir...he's in the stables."  
"Get him and send him to the servant's quarters." He strode off to find 'her'

Guy was angry when he found her folding sheets in the drying yard. Angry that he felt he had to do this. Angry at Vaisey for wanting to take what was his. Angry because he did not want her beaten for pleasure, why did he care? There was no honour in it, but he had committed greater crimes, this would have been just one more. Why was this so bad?  
He dragged her out of the sight of the windows.  
"You are to go to Knighton, assist the Lady Marian in what ever she needs you to do. But you do _NOT_ come back to the castle till I tell you to. _Do you understand?"_  
"You are sending me away? I did not spy on you I swear." She sounded as if she did not want to leave him.  
"Your name, what is your name?"  
"I am Elias Renouf." He asked her name, what subtly was this?  
He looked faintly puzzled. "A man's name surely?"  
"My father wanted only sons, he would countenance no female names, it would put me at a disadvantage, he said."  
"Elias, the sheriff has requested you from me...and I would not give you up" It sounded as if... but that was ridiculous. He did not...what did he not do? Care for her? Need her? Want her?  
"But he will punish you sir!" She was amazed. She still nursed bruises from the day before. Did he truly care for her?  
"He would... do things that...I could not have done to you. That is all you need to know. One of my men will take you to Knighton and stay till I send word for him to bring you back. The Lady Marian will hide you, she is generous... to the weak and the needy"  
But not to him.


	9. Chapter 9

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 9

The hamlet of Knighton was small. Only six cottages and Knighton Hall. The modest but solid Hall was the home of the once sheriff of Nottingham, Edward of Knighton. It was not impressive, not imposing, but the barley and flax fields would yield generously. The low hills covered in great oaks and elms, held calm.

On such a pleasantly warm spring day, you could believe that God created this corner of England just for this moment. The air was sweet with oncoming summer. Leaves, sprouting, pale infants on their branches. Apples trees offered a generous crop when their time came.  
This was peace.

This was heaven. 

Elias plied her needle with care. The cloth was soft but the weave was too open to be embroidered properly. It had come from the basket of scraps and was all she had to make this small gift for the Lady Marian.  
Yes, this was heaven, and she knew it because she understood there was a price to be paid for heaven. The price for her was an empty corner of her heart, whose tiny yawning ache woke her in the night and took her at moments like these.  
But how could she long for his nearness? Her finger touched a bruise fading on her wrist, and she felt his hand on her. Elias shook herself free of the thoughts and stitched once more. A trail of ivy twined a wild rose, imprisoning it. This was how she saw the lady Marian, imprisoned as much as she. Only Marian had the glimmer, the illusion of freedom. Elias had no such luxury.  
"You work, even here?"  
A voice, low and familiar whispered in her ear. She turned expecting it to be her mind playing its tricks.  
"My lo-" She tried to stand, but became caught in her kirtle and stumbled back, sending her needlework tumbling into the grass.  
Swallowing uncomfortably, he looked at her. She had almost said 'my love' and she was smiling.  
"I must speak with you before I see the Lady Marian," Suddenly he felt stupid, but not angry about it.  
"I have not betrayed you sir, if that is what you ask?" Her heart sank. His only concern was that the lady, his 'love', thought well of him.  
"Good, good." He looked at her in the sunlight, her hair loose; cheeks flushed pink, well apart from the marks he had left upon her. He found he wanted her, there in the grass, in the sunshine.

No dark corners, no locked doors. No urgent, angry, fucking, no punishment for crimes unspecified. But a languorous, lazy revelling in the liquid honey of her.  
She was on the ground in front of him, she could easily take him in her mouth, assuage his need.

But it was not what he wanted. He wanted her to smile again.  
Sitting there, she knew he was thinking about having her. She could see his manhood swelling. Was he wondering if he had time? Might the lady catch them? She thought she knew these things and pushed them away.  
"Do you wish anything of me sir?" she asked politely, even though the meaning was anything but polite.  
His eyes burned her and she revelled in it. She had power over him but she had no idea what to do with it.  
"I would..." He looked heavenward and threw his arms wide."No!" It was almost a shout. "No, I am grateful for your silence in this. Our arrangement…" He paused, and shook his head. "need not trouble her."  
Arrangement! It stung, but it was true. Elias smiled at him, and he groaned.  
"Don't do that!"  
She stood, turned away and gathered her work, searching for her fallen threads in the springtime grass.


	10. Chapter 10

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 10

Marian had seen Sir Guy arrive, but she had not gone to greet him. Instead, she watched him as he spoke with Thomas Crowe, and as he sprinted off up the low rise to the left of the manor.  
Then she followed him.  
She watched the encounter with interest. Guy stood behind the seated Elias. Not moving or speaking, just looking at her. Slowly, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Elias spun around, almost falling.  
Marian could have sworn she heard the girl call him 'my love'. Sir Guy looked away, but she could see he was moved by her. He was intent to know that she had not given away their liaison. Though strangely, Elias's words of denial did not appear to calm him. He had that look of fire in his eyes. She had seen it before when it was directed at her. She knew how stirred she had been by him then.  
Elias was nothing but propriety itself, there was no lewd behaviour, Marian could only see sadness there. Guy seemed to wrench himself away, throwing up his arms in an almost beseeching gesture, as if it was painful for him to just speak to her.  
She heard him say that Marian need not know of their arrangement. Elias smiled acceptingly, and turned away, but said nothing.  
Guy had cried out that Elias should not do... something? Marian could not hear what. The girl had just collected up her work. Nothing more.  
Guy walked away, his shoulders hunched.  
Marian slipped back the way she had come. She was amazed that two women had adored and trusted him, Annie had been a little simple and, perhaps deluded, but Elias was very different. She knew her lessons better than Marian. She understood Marian's need to be free. They had talked as Elias helped with the daily business of the manor. They had laughed at the same things, giggled at the antics of more foolish girls, but at the mention of husbands and children, Elias had shaken her head and smiled sadly.  
"Nay, lady, not for me."  
"Nor I. I'll not wait on a man's needs in the hall or the bedchamber. I want to ride and swim and watch the sunset, and sleep, tired with fulfilling my own wants. I would not housekeep my way to heaven. Nor will I be some man's brood mare.. Bearing him heirs till my body is worn away with it. Spending my days counting sheets, brewing simples and my nights listening to my husband's snores."  
"You sound like a man, my lady." Elias had laughed. "'Tis not the snores that will cause you worry." They laughed together at that. "And if some of those may wants be filled by a man?"  
"Some, possibly." She could not help but think of Guy's tense body close to hers. Oh, and Robin's eager boyish kisses. Did she want them? She suspected she would have them both. Ah, but that was not a freedom that could be hers."Is it so bad, what happens between a husband and wife then?"  
"I have never been a wife, my lady, I cannot tell."  
"Is Thomas not your swain?"  
"Nay, lady, he is a good man, but a soldier. Sir Guy sent him to." She had said too much. Lady Marian had never asked why Guy had taken her part, what his interest in her was. Did she know?  
"Do you love Sir Guy?" Marian asked with pretence of innocence.  
"Love..." Caught unawares, Elias was about to say she did not know, but stopped herself in time. "Sir Guy, nay, I do not reach that high, my lady.  
"But you are his...paramour?"  
"You have lived at the castle, lady, you know the gossip that is spread, and it has little to do with real life."  
"So it is merely gossip?"  
"He has no interest in me." It was true, sending her away from the sheriff was, she believed, only to preserve his sole rights to ownership. He 'did not want another man's leavings on her.'  
"Then why are you here? Did he not send you here for protection? I never thought him so concerned for just anyone."  
Elias laughed as she tried to change the subject.  
"Mayhap, he seeks to raise himself by the gesture? He is capable of kindness...he cares greatly for you lady."  
Marian shook her head and pulled a sour face. Lusts for her body and her connections, more like!  
"How came you by the bruises Elias? You can speak truly to me. Was it a lover, the sheriff, is that the reason you hide here?" Intent on the truth, Marian took Elias's hand in hers.  
"I would not speak of it, lady, it is no matter."  
"Why should you not speak to me of it? A man did this to you and yet you protect him?" Marian frowned.  
Elias turned from her and began to fold up the sheets. But Marian took her by the shoulder and held her.  
"He cannot do this to you; he has no rights over your body, whoever he is."  
"Lady, you are kind but you know little of such things. Men have the right by strength of arms. What woman can choose her own fate?  
"You love this man!" Marian was outraged. "But you allow him to do this to you!"  
"'Tis a thing of the heart, not the head." With that, Elias put the folded sheets into the basket and carried them back into the hall  
Now, much later, having watched Gisborne walk away from Elias and their private moment. Marian knew she would never understand such feelings.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood, but then neither do they, but I like some of their characters, so I borrow them.  
Summary: Vasey comes calling, his intentions are clear, and Elias will need to go, what will she do, never see Gisborne again?

The days at Knighton passed and turned into a week. Elias subdued her need, her wanting. Pushed the thoughts of her confused feelings for Sir Guy to the place it belonged: a dark corner.

She tugged gently on the thread and eased it up and away from the precious silk of Marian's best gown. The needle, held almost like a pen, the fine green strand wound up over the index finger and around the delicately curled pinkie and the last stitch was completed. The movements were assured, quick and effective.

"I have never watched anyone sew before. 'Tis all elegant gestures. Your hands move with precision, but it is as if they dance." Marian's head was bent forward as she gazed in fascination. Her own attempts sadly sagging and ill executed.

Elias tied off the thread and snipped it neatly. She smiled.

"You over think, my Lady! I have done this every day since I was a child. You have not lifted a needle in years if your mending basket is to be witness."

Marian giggled and tossed the scrap she was practicing on onto the floor.

"It bores me so." She hissed.

"Well, well, well. Is my servant a long lost relative of yours, Lady Marian? You look so cosy here." Sheriff Vasey stood in the doorway, leaning against the door post, looking nonchalant.'

Marian recovered from the shock of this sudden appearance quickly and cursed herself for not hearing the arrival of the sheriff's troop of guards.

"This is unexpected. Elias refreshments for my Lord Vasey."

Rising and bobbing a curtsy in his direction, Elias tried to ignore her panic. She folded the gown she had been stitching and placed it carefully on top of the rest of the mending. She left the room with measured step. Vasey was not to know she was here for any other reason than to assist with the sewing.

"Nice to see you using my servants to good ends. Running out of your own are you?" He sat heavily on the settle by the window and glanced around him.

"I have none of Mistress Renouf's quality. She is a treasure." Marian smiled politely. "Her skill with a needle in nigh on miraculous. She has repaired our tapestries beautifully. You must value her highly?"

Vasey snorted derisively.

"The little seamstress has her uses. I've no doubt Gisborne failed to mention most of them"

Marian raised an eyebrow at the mention of Sir Guy. So it was he who was Elias's abuser and, she considered, lover too. Poor Elias, to be so caught in the trap of these men's making.

"Well she does have so much more to do. It has been helpful of you to allow us the services of such an important member of your household.

"How much longer?" he asked abruptly in a very bored voice.

As he spoke Elias returned with a tray of sweetmeats and wine.

"Oh a week or two." Marian shook her head as the pale girl offered her the wine, and gestured toward the sheriff, with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Elias, stood head bowed, before Vasey. He let his eyes slick from her feet, across her small hands, as they gripped the tray. Then they reached the clear expanse of flesh above her neckline. The dress was modest, but she felt as if every part of her could be seen by this man's greedy eyes.

"Not possible. She is needed at the castle...there's urgent...stitching to be done." He smirked, and thought, 'Very creamy, yes and plumpness to the skin, humm, that would hold a stripe well, and fullness about the breasts, I would enjoy employing the lash there.' He shifted in his seat to accommodate his 'interest', holding Elias's eyes as he sipped his wine.

"No…no!" Marian stood quickly. Elias's face was frozen into the non-expression of a practiced servant. Only a slight trembling in her hands betrayed her.

"At least let her finish my gown. It's for my Saints Day feast. I would be most put out if it were not ready. Another day should have it done." Marian spoke to the girl who had become her friend. "Is that not so?"

"If I work tonight, my Lady," Elias said quietly.

"There, it is settled, one more day and you can have your treasure back."

"Not good enough. You'll find another reason to keep her. I know your plan Missy, you think I don't? You think I'll forget about her." He plucked a stray hair from his sleeve with studied care.

"Well, of course, I would dearly like to have her mistress Renouf's services in a more permanent arrangement, but I know her value to you."

Unaccountably, Vasey began to laugh as she spoke, almost spluttering at his own private joke.

"Oh, yes, Madame, she has great value to us indeed!"

Elias's jaw ached it was clenched so tight. How could she go back to this? What need could be so great that she could suffer this man's wants, to appease it?

"I beg, my Lord one more day, and then you can have her back. I promise." Marian pleaded.

The sheriff sighed theatrically.

"Oh, alright don't whine. I can't abide whining women." His eyes raked Elias breasts once more, then he stood. "Very well, one day." He moved too close to the terrified girl and leaned even closer, breathing on her throat. "Then you can come home, my sweet child, we all miss you." Half closed snake eyes watched for tell tale signs of delightful fear, but were rewarded only by a small swallowing motion, a curtsy and silence.

As the sound of Vasey's departure faded, Marian busied herself.

"We have one night, I will go and find Robin, and he can get you to York. Thomas can go to Gisborne; he will have the money you need, more than I have. We will find you a safe place. I will not allow that man to defile you more!"

Elias sat, pale and exhausted by her fear. She had never let the lady Marian know of her encounter with Robin, it would have served no purpose to sully his name to her. Then she thought on what Sir Guy had said, that the sheriff would do things to her? She could not go back to that.

"Hold yourself ready to go."

What now? She must run away, would it always be thus?


	12. Chapter 12

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 12.

Elias leaned her cheek against the shutter frame and looked out over the darkened yard, not seeing the night shapes, only the empty void of her future.

She stroked the wooden sill absently till a calloused finger tip touched the small leather pouch.

Thomas had gone to find Gisborne, as ordered by the Lady Marian. He found him at Locksley about to go to the castle. Sir Guy had given him the purse of money then told him to take Elias to Gainsborough, and to leave her at the house of one Josiah Hubbard, a merchant of the town.

The purse sat squat and lumpen. It was filled with silver coin, enough to keep her in luxury unknown to her.

It was his dismissal of her, with this payment. And she would not take it.

The day of his failed wedding, when he had kissed her and taken her to his bed, that day she knew this would happen. She knew he would give her tastes of his sweetness and then deprive her.

And now he paid her off like the whore he thought her.

She stood abruptly, the thoughts rushing in to her head. She would not be hustled off by him or Lady Marian. She, Elias Renouf would make her own way to York. She could get work and live by her own hand, respectably.

She put her precious needles, threads, pins, and the tiny silver thimble and scissors that had been her mother's, into the small bundle of her clothes and the pile of coins she had earned honestly. All these things were her life, tied in a bundle small enough to carry.

The plan growing in her head was to go to Locksley and return Sir Guy's money. Place it in his bed chamber. He would know that she had returned it. Thence, on to York and a new life.

The walk from Knighton to Locksley was not a hard one. It was only four miles and the cart track was dry from the late summer sun, though deeply rutted from use. No travellers were about at this hour, and the presence of Robin Hood in the area assured that the real brigands kept their distance.

Locksley was abed. Only a dim light in the servant's quarters glowed in the darkness. House was bigger than Knighton, with several out buildings and it's separate kitchen was large. Sir Guy was rightly proud of it.

Elias hid her belongings behind a bale of hay in the stables. Horses snickered and swayed gently at her non-threatening presence. She steeled herself and approached the house stealthily .The guard at the door slept, hunched, standing up at his post, and she slipped easily past him into the hall. On the landing she faltered. Which was his chamber? With great care she opened and closed doors till she came upon a room that contained a table strewn with maps and an ink pot. Deeper, she saw a large curtained bed.

Closing the door behind her, Elias retrieved the purse from it hiding place in her bodice and placed it on the map of Nottingham. The notion came to her of leaving a note, so there should be no mistake but that she had left the silver. Finding a sheet of coarse paper, she began to write.

The sounds of jangling harnesses, snorting horses and the rough voices of men, stopped her, the note unfinished. She glanced through the gaps in the closed window shutters, her fears confirmed; he had returned.

There was no means of escape. Already, there were voices in the hall and the window was too high for exit that way.

Booted and spurred feet ascended the stairs hurriedly. Elias wrenched open the linen box and tugged out a pile of folded sheets. Holding them high, to shield her face from view. She turned her back to the door and breathed deeply, her throat constricting.

Sir Guy shouted orders from outside the chamber and the door crashed open. She heard something clatter to the floor.

"What are you doing here?"And without waiting for an answer, "Get out"

She took a chance and bobbed a curtsy, giving him wide berth, stepped past

Relief turned to horror as a large powerful hand shot out and seized her upper arm.

"Wait." He drew her back, breathing her in; a slow smile crossed his face. "You came."

She was undone!

"I…" What could she say, nothing.

Guy pulled her round to face him. In the gloom, it was not possible to see if he were angry or happy at her presence.

"You should be on your way to Gainsborough by now. Crowe was supposed to take you. Did he run off? Did he give you the purse?"

"No…No, he did not run off. He gave me the purse." Her eyes flicked to where it sat by the unfinished note. He caught the look, frowned and lit a candle.

Taking her with him he stepped to the offending pouch, picking it up.

"Why? What?" His eyes lighted on the paper, her careful script, still had a schoolroom precision.

He pushed her to the bed and she sat heavily, still looking for an escape route.

"What's this?" He read the words. "'I am not a whore.' What foolishness is this? 'My body you took, my heart I gave freely.' You little fool." He screwed the paper and tossed it on to the table. "The money was to feed you, keep you safe." He held the light high, looking at her hungrily, but confused.

"I cannot take it…it is payment. I am no strumpet, no whore." It was the first time she had ever spoken to him with such passion.

He turned away, stretching his throat and clenching his teeth, containing his irritation.

"So you slid in here to return the silver, then what? Return to the castle and Vaisey? Knighton, perhaps, and the scant protection Marian now offers? Or is Hood to spirit you away, was that the plan?"

For once Elias was angry.

"My plan was to leave under my own power. Gain my own freedom, my own life, not to be chained to you, my lord, or the sheriff!"

"You speak of your heart?" He gestured to the note. His eyes burned her, his voice, low and husky, but questioning.

She could not deny it. She loved him. The truth was stupid. The thought occurred to her that she knew in her heart he would find her here, she wanted him to find her, and she wanted it thus.

"I cannot help what I feel, and I want not your scorn for it. I will go. Like Annie, I will fade, and you will find another maiden to torture."

"Annie was a pretty, silly wench, who would have been impressed by my sergeant." He dismissed Annie with a click of his fingers. Standing above her, looking down at her bent head, he wanted to be twined with her, to take her to his bed again.

She was not like Annie!


	13. Chapter 13

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 13

Elias would not now allow him to rule her, she must go, free herself of this curse that was her love.

"'Twas not always torture surely?" He purred, stroking her cheek with his still gloved hand.  
"I mind your cries of pleasure, your nails marking my flesh when I gave you heaven."

"Do not say such things." She stood. "I must go, 'tis a long way I have to travel."  
His hand was at her shoulder and he stepped around her, fingers curling up her neck, leather clad caressing fingers. And she felt her descent into wanting.  
"No…please, no."  
Guy tugged the scarf she wore wrapped about her hair and let it fall away. A dark chestnut cloud slipped past her shoulders.  
She heard him groan behind her. She was not lost, she could fight this. She had her voice now.  
"I am no whore." She was shivering.  
"Then come to me as a free woman." The whispered words were soft silk sliding over her heart.  
"You are the devil himself…I do not…"  
His gloved hands slid around her and cupped her breasts. His hard body tight now behind her.  
"Show me your heart." Lips open and sucking, took possession of her nape.  
She covered his hands with her own, pushing them away, but with no real effort.  
"I...Oh!" His teeth nipped lightly and a hand dipped low, inside her bodice.  
"Yes little one, show me…"  
Elias moaned, her loins afire now. Had she come here for this? Her body said yes, but her mind cried a plaintive, _no_!  
She surrendered to it. Yes, she wanted this and more. She wanted…  
He turned her and took her mouth. He tasted of spice, smoky, hot. Eager to twine his tongue with hers. Never before had it been like this. His hands were holding her head now. He was sucking the very life from her.  
Suddenly, he let go, shocked by the passion that gripped him. He was hard and wanted to…He was not sure what he wanted. To hear_ her_ moan her pleasure? To watch _her_ come? He was sure only of one thing, he would not let her go.

Elias removed her clothes. Not as she had in the past, careful, precisely. This time she pulled herself free of them, flinging them to the floor, almost challenging him.  
Guy watched her, his arms folded across his chest, curious at what she was about, but feeding on the sight.  
When she was naked, she stretched upwards, pushing her hair with her fingers, enjoying the feel of her tensing muscles.  
She was almost a different woman. He grabbed at her but she side-stepped him.  
"_No_, as a free woman, you a free man."  
Eyes half closed with desire, he pulled off his glove with his teeth as his free hand wrenched open the fastenings of his jerkin.  
She reached for him and ran the palm of her small hand over the tightness in his britches. She delighted in the groan it elicited. He pulled the jerkin and shirt over his head in one motion.  
Elias laughed. This was so easy, how had she not known?  
Naked, he was glorious. His unshaven chin contrasted starkly with the smooth chest. Oh, and his shaft…  
He pushed her back onto the bed, mouthing her breasts like a man starved. Rolling her over till she was atop him. He growled, "Ride me, take me inside you and ride me hard." It was crude, but it thrilled her to hear his need. For the first time, she could use the power she had.  
"No," she said simply, and moved down to kiss and caress his swollen cock  
She glanced up to watch the twisting of his beautiful neck. His Adam's apple, moving compulsively. The sight propelled her on, taking him fully into her mouth. His fingers buried themselves in her hair, painfully. But it did not stop her moving on him. She wanted her mouth to burn him, to scar him, as he scarred her.

Suddenly, she pulled away, wiped her mouth and slid up him. Yes, she wanted him, but there was something she could take for her own. If God did not prevent it again.  
"Why do you stop? Do not stop!" He tried to push her shoulders back, but she would not let him. She raised herself on him, and in a clear stroke, enveloped his cock.  
"God's eyes, girl, you will kill me thus."

She raised herself on him and ground forward, catching the pearl of her sex. She shuddered and circled her hips catching it again.  
"Yes, angel…yes!" He cried out.  
Then thought left her and only sensation mattered, and there was so much sensation.

Twice more, in that darkened chamber, she took him with her, he swam in the ocean of her needs.

And he gloried in it.  
"I should have freed you sooner, little one. But, mayhap, we would have died of exhaustion." Guy laughed, sated, tried. He laid his head on her breast, his eyes closing in sleep.  
Elias stroked his hair from his face, she crooned in a low breathy voice,

"My honey, my heart, my lamb,  
My heart is breaking, my body aching"

He smiled and slid his arm across her. Sighing, she kissed the top of his head as she would have a child. 

When he slept soundly, she slipped carefully from under him. She dressed, thinking when her last course had been. It should be right, God willing. She would take him with her and he would not know.

In the barn, as she lifted her bundle from behind the hay bale. A dark shape detached itself from the depth of the stalls.  
"You are ready to leave?" Thomas Crowe asked.  
Elias started in shock, stumbling.  
"What? Why... How came you here?"  
He looked away as he could see lusts leavings about her.  
"I followed you. 'T was a thoughtless thing to do, coming here. There's dangers a plenty in the woods. And in there, more" He motioned to the house, and looked away.  
"But why?"  
"I'll take you to York. I have a cousin there. She will help you, she too is a seamstress. Mayhap you could have a new life there. You gave back the silver?"  
"Yes," she said simply.  
"Then we'd best go now. The sun will be up in an hour."


	14. Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Robin Hood, if I did, I would have made a better job of it than the writers who do own it! so there!

SUMMARY: It's about 2 years on, Robin and Guy are looking for Archer. Some one is in the market crowd and sees them. She runs.  
Please feel free to comment, I hope I've shown the development of Guy's character from brute to...Man? Let me know if it worked. 

York was like the centre of the world. Both men had been to London and Winchester, but not found the heaving throng of dense and stinking humanity as noisesome as York. Hood and Gisborne rode through the thoroughfare with assurance of men on a mission. That mission, to free their brother, had cemented their uneven truce. Though in truth, it had worked better than either had expected. Now a grudging respect had grown for the others intelligence and abilities. In addition, their newly revealed relationship had forged a bond that may or may not last; only time would tell.

"The Pilgrims Rest is just down by St John Street, off the flesh shambles. I know the landlord of old. For a silver coin, he will tell us all we will need to know." Hood swore as a cart just missed his mounts foreleg. "Jesu, but this place stinks, and I can't abide this crush."  
"Never saw you as fastidious Hood. Must be all that clean forest air and emptiness you're used to now." Gisborne raised a brow. In truth, it did stink. Now he was fastidious. He found the smell of the market, the open sewers, the market and the people odious.

The market thronged, making their path slow and painstaking. Gisborne and Hood nudged their mounts slowly and carefully through the crowd. They wanted no attention drawn to them. No word to return to Isabella of their whereabouts.

"Now, Ghislaine not so fast, you'll make yourself sick." The smiling young mother with a girl child on her hip, checked the infant as its small hands crumbled cake into its mouth.  
"Aye mistress, she grows apace does she not, look at 'er." The kindly stall holder chuckled the child under the chin. "My, but you're a pretty thing like your mama. Not got your 'air though. Fathers?" It was an innocent question, but Elias's heart misbeat.  
"Nay, my mother's. Thank you, for your kindness and the cake. Sometimes I think she will burst she eats so well." The women smiled in mutual motherly agreement. Elias kissed her daughter's dark head and turned away to move on to the next stall.  
Looking up, she saw a shape that struck a chord in her memory. A shape that moved to face her. Shading her eyes from the midday sun, she gasped.  
"Guy! Oh my Lord. We must go now, my petal." She fled down a ginnel that led to the back of the flesher's shops. The city was so crossed with these alleyways and closes that if he did chose to follow, he could never find them.

Guy heard a familiar voice, near and low. He turned and scanned the sea of faces.  
Then he saw her.  
"Elias." Her name was a sigh.  
"Hood, I'll meet you at the inn. I have personal business to attend." With that, he tossed the reins to Hood and dismounted smoothly. "What the…?" Hood sat back aghast.  
"'Tis personal!" And he was gone into the crowd dodging stalls and stinking puddles.

"The woman with the child, she was just here. You know her?"  
The stallholder sensed trouble and pulled back. The young mother had done her no wrong. She would do her none.  
Gisborne held up a copper coin. "Again, do you know her?"  
The woman's husband snatched at the money and shoved her hard. "Tell 'im."  
She looked resentful. Men, she thought, always pushing you, pulling you. Her husband slapped the back of her head.  
"Mistress Crowe, St Jude's alley, by the Minster." She winced and rubbed her head and pointed to the huge building that loomed above them.  
"Here, for your trouble." He put the coin in to the woman's hand and moved purposefully towards the great York Minster.

Guy dodged through alley's weaving in and out of the mass of people and refuse that littered the city byways.

She was gone, but he would find her. She had seen him, he knew it. Now he would know the truth. Breathing heavily, anger growing in the pit of his stomach, he strode on. She had left him when he needed her. His life was in a dark pit because of her. Mistress Crowe the woman had called her, she had married Thomas Crowe? What treachery was this? If she had stayed with him it would have been so different. Her love could have redeemed him, his need for Marian would not have seethed and torn him to the point it did. Ye gods, Marian may yet have lived!  
"Goddamn her!" Angrily he turned about. He would find her and by God when he did…Then he saw the street shrine to St. Jude.  
All he had to do was bang on every door.  
Striding forward, he studied the street and it occupants. The Respectable poor! He sneered at epithet, just the sort of place she would be.  
A sign, small and prettily drawn, a needle and a spool of thread, caught his eye. The little seamstress still plied her trade.  
He stood at the door, he schooling his face into calm. Only the flicker of a nerve at the corner of his eye betrayed his anger.  
The knock was brisk, but not urgent. The bitch would pay for her faithlessness.  
And door opened, there Elias stood, her hair loose, simply dressed as always, and beautiful.  
"Where is Crowe?"  
"Guy…I…"  
"Where is the traitorous dog? I left you in his charge, and he stole you away. Where is he?"  
"No…no!" She looked down the street, anxious, people were looking. "Come in…please Sir Guy." She pulled his arm. "Please…come in."  
He filled the small room, looming over her. His anger spilling from him in waves.  
"And he brings you to this hovel? Where is he?" Guy stepped threateningly close.  
Elias stepped back in front of a low crib, shielding the sleeping child within.  
"Crowe's child?" He sneered.  
"'Tis not your concern."  
He rounded on her, fury flushing his face, his fists clenched at his side.  
"The villain stole you away, fathers a child on you, and it is not my concern?" He seethed, his voice low and dangerous. "You jest surely?"  
"Shush, you will wake her, unless you mean to terrorize her too?"  
"Where-is-he?"  
"He-is-not-here," she said back at him. Almost as angry as he.  
Guy swung away, looking for something to kick or smash.  
"If you cannot speak reasonably, then you must go." Elias sounded calmer than she felt.  
"Where is your protector?" He hissed.  
"I have no 'protector', poor Thomas went to Durham to serve Sir Richard Deeming. I bide here only with my child."  
"They called you Mistress Crowe!" He snapped.  
"Usually they call me Widow Crowe. It is but a show of respectability; I have no husband and a child. Would you have me named whore? Oh, I forgot, to you I am so." She swiped at him. "Tom was a good man, and I was honoured by his proposal, but I could not have married him. It would have been wrong; I could not have made him happy. He could never have had my…" She turned from him. Why was she talking to him, he would only punish her again. She could not allow this, she was no longer the simple girl she had been.  
"So the child is…?" he snapped.  
"Mine." She would not meet his eyes.  
Guy caught her arm tight and held her fast.  
"Then she is my daughter." He sounded almost pleased.  
"And Seth your son! Think you no more of him? Why then, should Ghislaine be different?"  
"The name, how came you by it?" He looked suspicious.  
"A fancy on my part." She lied; she knew it to be his mother's name. She had seen his precious pedigree all mapped out on a parchment in his chamber at Locksley.  
"'Twas was my mother's name. The child is mine then." He sounded resigned.  
"What difference will it make? What do you want from me, Guy?  
He looked at the sleeping child in its crib.  
"Naught, but the truth."  
"Your truth, you mean."  
"You promised me heaven in your heart...that night I..." He whispered. The anger was not enough to wipe out the memory.  
"I heard Marian died in the Holy land, is it true?"  
"Aye, 'tis true." He sat abruptly. "I killed her." It was the first time he had ever said the words out loud.  
"I heard as much."  
There was silence. Elias took a covered jug from a shelf. She poured small beer into two cups and set one in front of him. Sitting down opposite, she sipped the weak brew. Watched him, waited for his rage to resurface.  
"She's mine then." He drew a long sigh and looked heavenward. "I cannot provide for her. I have no lands or money now."  
"We need nothing of you. I earn our keep."  
"You live in a hovel of two rooms at the back of the Fleshing Shambles. It is not fitting!"  
"And what of your son? Where does he live? What care you for your children or their mothers?"  
"I would have honoured you." He sounded surprised at her anger.  
"Married me?"  
"You know that was not possible, but as my leman you would have been..."  
"Safe from Vasey? I think not. His hold was too strong, your need for the power to prove yourself, too great."  
He laughed and pushed himself up. His big body dwarfing everything in the room.  
"And when did my seamstress turn philosophiser?"  
"You may mock, but 'tis true. He would have found me and had his will of me." She shivered at the thought of the sheriff's leering interest that day at Knighton. "Would you have accepted the sheriff's leavings?"  
"Do not say it..." He knew it was true. He had wanted Marian, but when the sheriff gave her away, he had been powerless.  
"And what now?"  
"I ride with Hood and his men."  
Elias was stunned, open mouthed. "An outlaw! Sir Guy of Gisborne, how can this be? I hear you were made sheriff by Prince John?"  
"'Tis all fool's gold. He gives and he takes away on a whim. We are not even chess pieces in some great stratagem. We are the playthings of a child, and we await his next tantrum."  
She laughed then. "Now who is the philosopher?" For some reason she needed to touch his face, to stroke the tension from his brow. But she must not be drawn in.  
"What? Why do you look so?" What did he see in her face? Disdain?  
"You look tired."  
"The forest offers few comforts and certainly, no decent beds." He smiled at his own wry comment. Sir Guy was not known for his wit.  
Elias puzzled over this. Much had changed. She was no more the acquiescent, adoring girl. He was still arrogant, but tempered now with some understanding of himself. And to her shame, she still wanted him. Wanted to touch his soft, now much longer hair.  
"You could sleep here. The bed is tolerable good." She busied herself tidying a tidy room, aware he would hear the unspoken offer there.  
He stilled her, his hands upon her shoulders.  
"I dare not stay, you know I would never leave, and disappointment would eat anything we had."  
She shrugged and tried to look unaffected.  
"'T was only a place to sleep, no matter." The ache between her thighs was growing apace. How? He was a danger to them. He caused her such pain?  
"No, I will not..." It was a thought said loud, and then his hands were about her head, holding her fast. Lips, gentle but firm, tugged at her own. No fight left for this, Elias allowed it, nay encouraged it, opening to him.  
The child stirred in her sleep, and he turned, distracted by the movement.  
"I have nothing of worth to give you."  
"Did I ever ask for aught?" She straightened her back.  
Pride he had only seen once before, the night she left him. Pride that wounded him. The pliant woman-child he had used to slake a thirst, fulfil momentary lusts. Who he had used so ill. The blows and words came back to him. Now she stood proud and he, the weak and powerless one. This slip of a girl, soft and loving, had bested him. After all he had done, he knew she was still stirred by his touch.  
"I would...stay if I could but..."  
"We do not need you to stay, go fight for…what? your lands back? Your money?"  
He felt his anger rising, he needed to defend this new path. She had no right to...  
"Just go." She felt herself weakening. She watched his jaw tightening. The signs of his anger were well known to her, once it had been what her life turned on. But the thought of his hands on her, his cock inside her...She swallowed hard and tried to dismiss him. "Leave, I do not want you here." But she was damp with longing. Thighs ached for the pounding of his.  
And he was on her. Mouth demanding, taking. Hands pulling at her clothes.  
To his surprise, she did not fight him, but tore at his buckles, loosing them clumsily. Now mouths open, sucking, biting. Half words slipping between gasps for air. Clothing shoved aside to gain access to flesh.  
She found his shaft, bone hard, and he growled.  
"I will not let this finish here." He was inside her. Like so many other times before, but now, so unlike them.  
She muffled her cries of need by biting into his jerkin, tasting the leather and cloth.  
Her pleasure tore through her, a roll of thunder and a flash of lightening, her body tightened and knotted. Only his mouth stopped her scream.  
And he went on pumping into her, twisting one hand viciously in her hair, drawing her head back, the other squeezing tightly at her ripe, full breast.  
She thought it would never end. The waves of ecstasy that rolled over her, draining her wits, and she sighed into his hair.  
"None other than thee, none ever."  
As the words reached his ears, he came, his belly so tight he thought he might die of it.  
They slumped against each other, breathless.  
And their child slept on.  
Guy held her in the circle of his arms, pinioned by his cock, still inside her. She wriggled and he smirked.  
"Again lady?"  
"Never stop." She groaned.  
"Very well." He chuckled, lifting her away from the wall; he carried her into the next room and lay her on the bed. "I must see you." He stroked her chemise over her shoulder. Clothes fell away from them both, till naked, they lay watching one another.  
"I will come back and take you to..."  
"Hush, do not speak of it." She ran her fingers along his throat. "Touch me."  
He laughed quietly, low and husky.  
"Oh, you will not stop me, I promise you that." His mouth was on her breasts, hands smoothing, cupping, and weighing the softness. "They are fuller, different, and you taste of sweet milk." He nuzzled her softly.  
"Your daughter will suckle still sometimes." Then she gasped as he nipped the bud and pulled.  
She took his cock in her hand and stroked its length lovingly, wanting him back in her.  
Then he was above her. Tongues tasting skin, fingers teasing and squeezing.  
He knelt, lifting her onto him, pulling her thighs about him and rocking his hardness in her. She clung to him, kissing his groaning mouth, joining herself to him, flexing her hips to his rhythm. She arched back as her climax began to invade her belly. He held her still, gripping her shoulder and her waist, still allowing her to ride him to the peak they both needed.  
His hand curled deep in her hair and he drew her back to him and their mouths fused as they came, together, almost silently, reverently.  
After, they lay entwined, quietly holding each other.  
"I must go angel. Hood awaits me. I will come for you when this is over. I care not if I have to earn our bread shoeing horses. We will have peace." He kissed her.  
Elias, letting her head rest on his belly, kissed the it tenderly. He would not return. But still, she loved that he had said it.

In the taproom of the Pilgrims Rest, Robin Hood sat, his belly full but his temper frayed.  
As Gisborne sauntered across to him, he half rose and spat out, "Three hours I have waited. Three hours! What personal business could keep you thus long?" Hood stopped and sniffed at Guy like a dog. "A woman, you damn well went and fucked a woman!"  
"Spoken like the true nobleman you are, Sir."  
"Well, I hope she was worth it?"  
"Worth far more than I." Gisborne smiled.

Elias combed her child's hair carefully, easing the sleep tangled mass into a sleek black sheen.  
"My honey, my heart, my lamb,  
"My heart is breaking, my body aching."  
Tears slid silently down Elias's cheeks.  
Surely now it was ended?


	15. Chapter 15

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 16

Five years had turned, and Elias had grown from biddable girl to steadfast matron.

"No, I'm Robin of the Hood. I'm a boy, you can be a maiden."  
"Me, me, my turn!" The small chestnut hair girl child stamped her foot. "_No, no, no! Mam, Seth's not playing fair!"_  
"Oh, _you baby_, Gissy." The boy sighed and gave the small bow and arrow to his sister, who grinned her triumph and flounced about pretending to aim it.  
"Seth, what have I told you about playing with your bow?" Elias said as she came into the yard and fussed about the children.  
"I was only playing Robin…" He looked away sulkily.  
"I know my sweet, but the arrows are sharp and your little sister is not so careful as you." She stroked the grave-faced little boy's dark silken head lovingly. Adding conspiratorially in a low voice, "She is not as clever as you about such things. She will hurt herself."  
"I would not let that happen, Mam. When she is older can she learn how to use it? I could teach her then?"  
"Yes, my heart, when she is older would be a much better time." Elias took the small bow and its quiver of arrows from her daughter.  
"But Mam, it's my turn," she whined. "I never get a go…"  
"Ghislaine, you know better. Now, I think 'tis time for supper and then bed. I must be off early in the morn. Business needs must be done early, or we loose customers." She was determined that her children would understand that hard work and diligence would earn them their place in the world and prevent them making the mistakes of their father.

"Mama, mam, Marianne is covered in honey!" Ghislaine cried gleefully, jumping up and down and pointing, keen to divert attention from her own misdemeanours.  
Elias turned to see her youngest child toddling towards her. Her apron smothered in golden brown honey. Close behind followed Hilde, the older woman clucking and huffing after her charge.  
"Now child, what have you done to your nice new apron? Tsk, tsk. Mistress, the dyers man is here and 'e wants 'is money afore 'e'll leave the cloth. Nasty piece of work 'e is too." She drew her head back and tucked in her chin, just to make her disapproval even more noticeable. "I showed 'im into the parlour, but I don't trust 'im. Best get there afore 'e steals the best plate."  
Elias laughed and directed her sticky youngest child back to her housekeeper for cleaning  
"Thank you Hilde, I'll leave the children to your tender care." Elias grinned at the woman she regarded more as a respected aunt than as a servant. "You and the children have your supper. I'll eat later; I must make sure Alfred has the cart prepared for the morrow." She watched as the children followed Hilde back into the house.

She was so proud of them; she was sure Guy would have been proud, too. Surprised, but definitely proud. Seth was turning out so well. Protective of his sisters and attentive to his lessons, A serious boy who gave his affection only after consideration, but when he did, it was wholehearted. She could not help but wonder how much of his father he had inherited.

Fate had truly mapped out a strange course for Elias, and its wheels had turned her life about so many times, that little, she thought, could surprise her.

Four years ago, a clerk from the former employer of Thomas Crowe came and sought her out. It seemed Thomas had passed away and left her his savings of twenty silver shillings. This was a sizable fortune, and it turned her thoughts to Guy's child by Annie. She went to the nuns at the Abbey to find that, while Sir Guy still paid for his keep, and Annie got her regular payments, all stayed well enough. However, the payments ceased with Sir Guy's fall from grace. The nuns had sent Seth home to his stepfather, who it appeared, was a man possessed of a foul temper and fouler habits. Annie had died of the lung fever, and Seth was left to the mercy of his stepfather. His plight touched her deeply.  
When she found the child, he was a pitiful sight; his stepfather had tried to sell him to Elias. When she told him she had no money, he tried to exact another kind of payment. Elias had done no more than knock the sot out cold, and brought the starving, dirty, terrified child away with her.  
It was then she found herself with a parting gift from Guy. Marianne was born the following year, and the Gisborne family turned its face to the world.  
Taking the silver that Thomas had left her, she bought cloth and sewed it into gowns for merchant's wives who were too lazy to do it themselves. Her custom grew, and she extended her talents. Good sense and a need to feed her brood turned her from a meek seamstress to a keen and respectable woman of trade. She knew not if Sir Guy would have approved, but still they prospered.

This was to be an important trip to the Leicester fair. Two special orders to be delivered and fitted. Also the buying of all-important trimmings. She was excited, as the payment she would receive was sizable. It would pay for new silks she needed.

The overflowing market square was a sight to see. Stalls abounded, tumblers tossed themselves into the air and landed in flurries of bright absurd rags. Much to the amusement of the crowds. Chop stalls sold mouth-watering slices of roasted pork on small trenchers with dollops of applesauce on top. They looked like cakes and smelled like heaven.  
"Mistress, mayn't we eat yet? The hour is late and me belly's askin' if me throats bin cut." Alfred shuffled his feet nearer to a stall selling pies.  
Elias sighed; Hilde said that this boy would eat them out of house and home.  
"I have one more stall to visit and then we can return to the inn. We've paid for our supper there, and there we shall eat it."  
She found the stall she wanted and began to haggle for the trimmings and trifles that would finish her next order of gowns.  
"Mistress, I can only let the samite go for what will give me profit."  
"Aye and there is profit in it and you profiteer most blatantly."  
"I barely make my costs back!"  
"Then why charge double what Master William charged at the last winter fair?"  
"Then go to him and leave me in peace woman!" the stallholder snapped.  
"'Tis my Lady Gisborne you speak to my man, and you should keep a civil tongue in your 'ed." Alfred drew himself up proudly. To be sure, his mistress never_ called _herself 'Lady Gisborne' but all knew her late husband had been a knight.  
Two sets of eyes lifted at the sound of the Gisborne name.  
One set belonged to a short stout man dressed in the robes of a nobleman. He was just distant enough to see only a glimpse of a housewifely wimple and a young servant. Nevertheless, his interest was piqued. He stroked his grizzled beard and wiggled his jewelled tooth, squinting at the sea of bobbing heads. 

The other eyes belonged to a tall dark figure, stood close by. He was dressed well, but in a soldier's garb. An ice blue glare fixed the soberly dressed woman as she walked through the fair. This man was also interested at the mention of the Gisborne name, interested in her.

The fair, but unremarkable goodwife, about her business.  
Could this really be the woman Sir Guy of Gisborne had ultimately given his heart to?  
Then he saw her turn to the lad accompanying her, she spoke and then smiled.  
"Aye, 'tis her," he murmured to himself.


	16. Chapter 16

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 17

Elias shrugged unconsciously. She felt the tingle at the back of her neck and turned to look about her. Nothing seemed amiss, the crowd was thinning now that the sun dipped, but still people milled about her. A stallholder called his wares. Another was dismantling his temporary structure now his goods were sold.  
"Come Alfred, time I think to feed you." She smiled at the eagerness to eat.  
Again, she felt the unease. This time she redouble her pace, hurrying her way from the square and the people. What troubled her she could not say, but experience had taught that such instincts should be heeded. Danger could come when least expected. Till she knew that Vaisey was really dead, her head would never rest easy. Though what he would want with her now she could not think. Lest he knew of Guy's children and sought to visit his revenge upon them?  
"Alfred I want you to load the cart when we get to the inn. We will leave this evening. I have a need to be home."  
"But mistress will we not get to have our suppers? And to travel at night, is that not asking for troubles?" he whinged.  
"I'll have the innkeeper make us a basket of food, which should stop you starving on the 30 miles home! As for troubles, I fear they will come our way if we stay here tonight." 

Vaisey was distracted. His present position at court was good but not totally secure. It still depended on the good graces of others, whom he did not trust. He wanted more. His usefulness was his cunning and it was effective. The King liked his ability to overlook conscience and propriety, in the name of profit and power.  
But thoughts of Gisborne's betrayal, the treachery of the man still stung and ate at him. The man was dead and no longer a problem, but…That name, the mention of Lady Gisborne, it all made his teeth itch. Gisborne had no brothers only that witch Isabella, his mad sister. She was now in France, married to some elderly doltish fool with too much money. He worshipped her and she spent her time with rages and cuckolding him with anything that moved.  
No this was perplexing him. What if…what if the seamstress married him before his death? No, she would have long since been eaten up by poverty and shame. But perhaps… he thought of the pale pink girl with the meek, dignified air. Hmm, was she worth pursuing?  
The Black Knights still occupied much of his time, they had their uses. They were less focused now; it was easy to put to use the resources they had at their disposal for his own wants.

King John thought he ruled England, but he was a fool. He was no longer _sansterre_, lackland. John was now _flou epee_, soft sword. Vaisey chuckled to himself; the King was a poor statesman and a worse soldier.  
Now it was to rid him of Arthur of Brittany that they plotted. A kidnap here, a murder there. It was all too easy some times. He almost missed the irritating Hood.  
Standing abruptly, he decided, yes he would pursue the mysterious Lady Gisborne, who ever she was. There may be a little light and amusing relief to be found in it. 

The innkeeper was happy to oblige Elias with the basket of food. He gained back a room already paid for, he could re-let, and this was one of his busiest sennights of the year.

As Elias climbed the stair, she pulled the stiffened wimple from about her head. She stretched her neck and rubbed at the spot at the back of her head that it had been pinned. She preferred a simple soft linen kerchief, but in town, a respectable guildswoman such as she, must dress according, however uncomfortable it maybe.  
Now she was intent on packing up her possessions for Alfred to load on the cart. She lit her candle stub carefully on reaching the landing. Just as she was putting flint back into the pouch that hung at her waist, the candle's flame flickered out. She scarce had time to think before two large strong arms pulled her, protesting into a doorway.  
"Mother of heaven, no, please do not…" She was cut off when a large hand covered her mouth.  
"Hush," the tone was low, the voice harsh. "There are two men following you, I think they are my lord Vaisey's men. Stay."  
The mere mention of the hated name made her shiver. But she still tried to wriggle free of the tightening grip.  
"No lady, for your own safety, do not move!" The words were urgent. He pulled her further into the room and pushed the door till it was almost shut.  
Then she heard the scuff of a stealthy foot on the stairs, a muttered phrase. A shadow eased across the wall opposite the door, then another. Whoever they were, they had not felt the need to light their darkened way.  
Elias ceased her struggles and the hands loosened but did not release her.  
"Third door down." She heard hissed. _The door to her room._  
Her captor removed his hand from her waist and gently closed the door, but his hand returned to her body, splaying over her belly, pulling her against him.  
Elias tensed, but not from fear of assault now. She groaned inwardly at a familiar scent, a touch that brought sensations from the past. His hand at her mouth dragged across her parted lips and down her throat. Holding her softly at the base of her neck. He must have felt her life's blood as it thundered there. The tiny flicker of remembered desire glowed in the very bowel of her. Was he more dangerous than Vaisey's men?

Were they even Vaisey's men?  
"No!" With all her strength, she snatched herself away from the invading thoughts and hands. She would not allow this.  
"Explain yourself sir, have you knowledge of these men, how came you by it?" She shook her apron free of creases, trying to seem unaffected by his nearness.  
"Which question would you like me to answer first?"  
His voice…"Guy." she breathed his name in a sigh.  
"Phillip de Lacy, late Captain in the service Count Baldwin of Flanders, at your disposal _Lady Gisborne." _He came forward, bowing graciously into the light.  
"I…you are…" she stuttered. The likeness was uncanny. He had Guy's height, his build. The eyes ice blue, laughing at her. The mouth, narrow quirking up at one side. The complexion was darker; grey flecked the short severe soldier cut hair. A scar, small but deep, caught at the corner of his right eye. Everything about him screamed 'Guy'  
"I was unaware my cousin married?" There was a hint of disbelief.  
She bridled at it. "The men who you say are Vaisey's, what do they want?"  
"You, it would seem Lady Gisborne. They want _you_."  
Then sudden sounds of a scuffle, running feet, a shout and he turned to the door, drawing his sword.  
"Stay here, go no where. We have much to discuss…fair _'cousin'."_ The smile had gone, replaced by the scowl she knew so well. And he was gone.  
Elias did not wait. She gathered herself up and sped to her room. She considered stuffing her few possessions into her box, then pulled the sheet from the bed and bundled them together instead. She heft it to the window and dumped the lot out. She had no idea where they fell, but…  
Seconds later, she was hauling Alfred away from the small crowd that surrounded Captain de Lacy as he held a man at sword point and demanded answers of him.  
She turned at the door to leave, glancing up and she caught his eye.  
"You, stay!" He hissed at her across the room.  
Ignoring him, she slammed the door behind her.


	17. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Same as usual.  
Rating:NC17  
Summary: The man calling himself de Lacy, has found her. Is he friend or foe?  
Thank you so much Jen, with out your help I'd still be mucking up right royally!

The small parlour was sparsely furnished, but what was there was good and solid. The table was old, and she had bought the two large carved chairs that stood by the fire, at the fair in Gainsborough two years since. On the wall hung a tapestry she had stitched herself. To any who understood the language of such things, they might read her story there. None, so far, who came here, had that insight. Only she saw the figures for who they were, and their actions translated into fact.  
Still it was a handsome room. She was rightly proud.  
"So you raise another woman's child as your own. Where is his mother?"  
"She died, he was left friendless. There was naught else for me to do." She smiled to herself at the thought of Seth's fierce pride and protectiveness. "He is a good a son as I could want." Looking up, she met his questioning gaze. It was Guy she saw there in those eyes, the same frisson of need hit her belly as it always did when he looked at her.  
What did he know of Seth? Guy had not hidden him. Still, would he inform his cousin that he had a bastard son? Elias doubted it.  
A smile changed the face above her. He was pleased. He actually looked_ pleased_.  
"Guy chose well for his '_wife_'. Fair, generous, talented and, it would seem, a shrewd businesswoman. 'Tis a pity he is not here to enjoy you."  
"Sir, what do you want? You did not come here solely to comment on my family," She sighed, refusing to acknowledge the obvious disbelief in her marriage.  
"As I said, what any man would want of you." He reached out and ran a fingertip down her cheek.  
Elias shrank back from him.  
"You disobeyed me." His voice changed, gone was the soft teasing tone. Now, he was hard, his eyes sharp.  
"I was not aware that you were to be obeyed, captain?" Did she fear him, or just what he represented? "I know nothing but what you tell me. Why should I believe you?"  
"By default, I find myself head of the family. You must defer to me."  
"I think not, sir!"  
"Do not play the innocent with me, mistress. You do not gain all this by the power of a _needle_!"  
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. How often had she seen that look in men's eyes? Heard that tone in their voices? The refusal to believe that a woman could make her way in the world, any other way than on her back.  
"Whatever you think, captain. I apply myself to my trade, with diligence. I can letter and calculate. I am no fool. I am respected for my acumen and talent."  
"I did not name you fool, I just question your honesty. _Lady Gisbourne_."  
"I have never called myself that!" she snapped defensively. Guilt at her deception crowded her head.  
"You allow others to, which is the same thing." He smiled that hated smile, and leaned back against the table and folded hid arms across his chest. "Am I to believe you made this fortune by honest means, not by opening your legs for any who had the coin to pay for it?" he said spitefully.  
"You dare insult me in my own home? What right have you to speak this way? You know nothing, go back to Vaisey or whomever you work for, and tell them what you will." She met the steel blue eyes and winced. There was hurt and anger there, aye, and lechery, too. "I know the truth. A better man than you left me forty silver shillings when he died. A good man. Who asked nothing of me, but that I stayed true to myself. With it I bought old silks and re-made them, sold them in the markets, till my goods became known. Then a bolt of new samite till it sold well. I worked at night when the children slept; my eyes dim now by it. Do not tell me I whored, I have worked for all I have." The words were bitten out.  
She had come forward a step with every sentence, and now faced him, eyes blazing, hands on hips, daring him to contest her.  
"You defend yourself well." His voice was soft, low. He circled her now, touching, but not touching. "I could almost allow it. However, your eyes betray, woman. They glow with need. Tell me no other man has lain with you since…"  
A shiver passed through her, and she stopped short his sneer with a slap to his face. It cracked it was so hard.  
He pulled back, shocked, and snatched her wrist painfully tight while still in mid air. He thrust her arm up behind her back.  
"Oh, outraged injured innocence, so charming a conceit." His other hand wound her plait and held her head.  
She tried to move, wriggling and kicking at him. But he kept her firm, hurting her. She cried out through the pain. "No, please…I will not…"  
His mouth was on her throat, her mouth, stealing her breath. She could feel the hot snake of desire winding to life in her belly.  
His lips moved to her ear and he whispered:  
"I can feel your ache through your skin." He kissed her mouth, pushing his tongue lazily inside. A taste of her, t'was all he needed, just a taste.  
She bit him.  
He reared back, his hand raised to strike her; Elias turned away from the oncoming blow.  
He froze. His jaw tightened, his face a scowl." Oh no, doveling, I will not let you off so easily." Wiping the trickle blood from his lip with the back of his hand, he took hold of her hair again and ground his mouth onto hers  
This time she did not fight him, and he revelled in it.  
He loosed her arm, but kept his hand clutched in her hair, holding her. His mouth worked at hers, small sucking kisses, lips tugging. His tongue sliding to meet hers in combat.  
She tried to hold herself back, she wanted to, but he won. A wrist, still stinging from his hold, twisted about his neck, pulling her up to meet him. She opened to him, cursing her own weakness, but aching for more. He was so like Guy, the feel of him, the way he held her. The very taste of his mouth. She shuddered as his hand cupped her breast and squeezed.  
"Tis so much better, is it not?" His mouth slid to her throat, nipping her skin. "I mean to have you, Elias." He took her hand and held it to the swell of his cock. "Feel what awaits you." He ground his hips forward against her. His voice was low, gravelly with desire. With a grunt, he lifted her on to the table, her legs parted by his.  
Breathless, Elias shook herself. No, she could not, would not, allow this to happen, not here, not like this. Taken like the foolish girl she had been.  
"No, sir, no…I … this is not right, the children may…" His fingers searching between her legs stopped her words. Wincing, she pulled away from him. She remembered the hurried couplings in dark corners. The sometime painful assaults Guy made on her body. Pain that turned to pleasure then to pain again as quick. How he took what he wanted as the mood took him. Did she want it again? Was another man using her thus all she had to look forward to? The promise of the last times with Guy would remain unfulfilled, and she return to subjection?  
"No, not here. Not like this. I will…come to you,"…she hesitated, "but as a woman to a man, not a concubine to her master."

"Mistress, is all well?" Hilde called hesitantly from outside the door.  
He looked at Elias, anger, need and sorrow all playing in his eyes. He released her abruptly. Stood back and straighten his doublet.  
"I am camped at the standing stones, by the stream. If you mean what you say, I will be there till the morn. Then I will never trouble you again."  
He opened the door to Hilde's affronted face. Bowed and was gone.


	18. Chapter 19

The late summer evening was hot and hung heavy with tension. Hilde watched her mistress fret and fuss over the children, and all to no purpose. The worried servant and friend did not know what went on between Elias and the tall stranger, but she could only surmise it was not good. Her mistress had always been a sensible and organized woman. Slow to anger, quick to forgive. However, this eve she had lost her temper with Ghislaine. True, the girl would tax the patience of most, but her mother had always dealt with the child's pettishness with reassuring calm. This time she shook the small shoulders till they had both cried.

In the end, the frightened and confused mother had run to own her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Lying on her bed, Elias wept from pure frustration. How dare he do this to her? Her life was here. No man would ever move her again, she had sworn it. He had no right to come here and disturb her peace, make her want things...things she could not have.

Yet his touch was Guy's, his kiss so familiar. He tasted of smoky meats, wine…and heat. She lay returning to the moment he had stroked her, his mouth working its witchcraft upon her. Her belly clenched, and loins seemed to ache, causing her to flex and fidget, breasts craving the feel of his…

In anger, she pulled her clothes from her and splashed cold water from her bowl over her face and body to cool her. She stood, still dripping, at her window. From here she could see the tallest of the Witches Stones, that was what locals called them. No one went there, it was cursed they said, the evil ones danced there at their Sabbat. The spot was all lonely grandeur, softened only by the nearby wooded glade with its lazy stream.

He was there waiting for her.

Well, he would wait all he liked, she would_ not_ go, and she would not succumb.

Pulling on a clean shift, she began to comb her hair, but the comb snagged and caught her hair, she tossed it angrily into the corner. She was drawn the window, she could see him in her mind's eye. But she saw Guy, as he had been at their last time together. His hair long, full. The way she had twined her fingers through it as he drove into her.

"Mother of Heaven, help me." She shuddered.

The house was silent. Hilde had long since gone to her bed. Albert would be sleeping in his nook in the kitchen.

A fevered moment was all it took for Elias to snatch up her shawl and quietly slip from the house.

She cursed him, herself and all the saints in heaven as she ran barefoot across the meadow. Then, she was in the glade, by the stream and watched him as he sat his back against a fallen tree.

Why had he chosen to camp here and not stayed at the inn, she did not know. But at least here her humiliation would be private.

His doublet was cast aside and he sat in a white lawn shirt open to his waist, his head back, the column of his throat exposed. She loved the long muscles that ran there, she could almost feel them under her fingertips.

His hands rested on his bent knees. Did he sleep?

She stepped closer.

"Ha, you could not stay away. Are your dreams as bad as mine?" He had not even opened his eyes.

She could not suffer to answer. She just stood and watched him.

He opened his eyes and surveyed her, his head to one side.

"If you stay there, naught will happen and all your effort in coming will have been in vain. Such a waste lady, do you not think?"

"I think…I think I should not have come, this was a grave mistake…I will go." She turned.

He looked up at the darkened sky and sighed.

"And why should that be?"

"I am no harlot, I just…" she almost stamped her foot, her back still to him. How could she face him.

"You _just_ want to be fucked by a man who looks so like your_ lost love_?" The disdain in his voice cut her. He was on his feet spreading his arms wide in front of her. "Here I am lady, will I do?

"You mock me sir…I look at you and I see…"

He moved closer now.

"You have an ache I can cure." He stepped around her, breathing in her scent; he lifted the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside. The night air was not cold but she shivered never the less.

He scooped the curtain of her hair away and slid a finger tip along her nape.

"Come to me," he murmured.

Elias almost cried out. His arms were about her, hands cupping her breasts, feeling the sinful weight of them.

She sighed as he squeezed and pinched.

"Come, little one, show me what you want." His mouth was at her ear. He held himself back, fighting to control his need for her.

Covering his hands with hers, she held them there. A little cry of pleasure escaped her.

It gratified him.

She could feel him hard against her, moving herself back on him the sweet honeyed rush of desire filled her. She felt one hand retreat as he unlaced himself. Then that hand was at her neck, pulling her head around to his, it hurt but she kissed his mouth desperately. Somehow they had moved forward, she stumbled and was on her knees, had this been his intention?

Whether or not it had, he moved with speed, lifting her shift, exposing her naked behind.

"So perfect." He groaned, leaned into her, and kissed her tailbone.

His lips so warm, so gentle upon her skin.

Then his hand was grasping her hair painfully, pulling her head up, and he was thrusting into her.

Her shock took away speech. She was not prepared, and his big body seemed burn as he impaled her. But he went on plunging repeatedly. How many times had this been her experience with Guy. He took what he wanted with scant regard for her. But slowly the feel of him, the tightness, the thought of the lewdness of their positions, stirred her. She pushed back, forcing him deeper, whimpering as the sweet ache grew and blossomed. She twisted against him and he bucked harder, grunting like the beast of old.

It was the same.

He cried out and pulled away from her. She felt him jerk against her back and knew he had spilled himself there.

Elias took his weight as he slumped, panting from his exertions. Her knees were sore but she waited for him to move.

"I'm sorry- I did not want-Christ's ball's what you do to me!" he pulled her to him and rolled them to the grass, holding her about the waist. "It was not how I wanted it to be, I should have…"

"Yes, you should have," She answered. He was naked and she still wore her shift, but it was damp now with his leavings. She shimmied it up over her head, he helped, kissing her shoulders as it went.

They settled in the faint glow of the fire, the warm breeze pleasant on their skin.

She lay between his legs, his arms about her. Lazily her finger traced the thin scar that ran from his hip to his knee, the wound she had stitched so long ago.

He tensed.

"When did you know?"

"Hmm…at the inn perhaps. Mayhap later, I thought you too familiar in your ways, but..." She murmured, "you think I would forget your touch?"

"And I forced you again. I had meant to stay away. Not bring the dangers to your door." He buried his face in her hair and gripped her tightly.

"I mourned you these past five years. My dreams were filled with your kisses." She swallowed hard at the memory of their sweetness. "I longed for you so much."

He pulled his face from the depth of her hair and twisted a strand, distractedly. "Vaisey has paid me to find you and bring you to him." He pulled her closer. "Which I will _not_ do."  
She could imagine the expression on his face as he spoke. there would be the ghost of a smile and, defiance.  
"So you do serve Vaisey still." She closed her eyes. It would all return to the way it was. Guy angry, and countering his master in small rebellions, all in the name of money and power.

"No, Vaisey believes me to be Phillip de Lacy. I have served Baldwin for four years. Now I am his emissary with one duty left to fulfill, and then I am a free man, my fortune renewed." He sighed sadly. "Only as de Lacy, not Gisborne. John will never pardon me.

"You still intrigue? It will cost you your life one day." She nuzzled his throat and reached for him.

"Nay, you will kill me first." He laughed as she let her hand stroke his growing shaft.

He moved above her and kissed her sweetly, just glancing blows from his lips. His tongue catching the corners of her mouth.

"Guy, please…"

"Phillip, you-must-call-me...Phillip…" He was kissing her breasts.

And she did not call him anything at all, just mewled and moaned as he coaxed her into readiness. A nip at a swollen bud, a slide of his tongue at her navel. Then his mouth at her pearl, nudging, stroking till she was ready to scream.

He entered her again, so different this time. His hardness moving as upon silk, gently and rhythmically, deep inside her


	19. Chapter 20

The night air cooled and Guy pulled a blanket from his pack to drape around them. He spooned about her and Elias wriggled into his belly. "Have a care, or I will needs find other means to warm us." He chuckled low and kissed her neck. "I thought you had drained me, but mayhap not."

"_I-drained-you_." She wiggled more. "You filled me; did you think to give me another babe?" she chided.

"Is it possible? I would not…"

"No, my course ceased but three days ago." She sighed and stretched languorously against him.

"You are then…safe?" He stroked her belly softly, his mouth dragging at her throat.

"From you? Never."

He nudged her ear with his nose and nibbled at her, with obvious intent.

Elias smiled to herself, this Phillip was a softer more attentive lover than Guy. She liked him.

"Oh angel, I am the safest man in England with you." His hand slipped downward.

"_Ha_, but you would have struck me a few hours since, do you forget?" Elias felt his hardness as he rocked slowly against her.

He groaned."Twas a momentary anger, nothing more. _You bit me!"_

"_You_ were forcing yourself on me."

"You wanted me…" His voice lowered, his words slowed. "I would never have…"

He retreated into memories of their past. He _had_ forced her. Never any other woman, only her had he violated. Why? He knew not.

Elias was no longer the compliant frightened girl, helplessly in love with a man so far above her. _"No, Guy,_ you would have beaten me. After all that was between us, you still need to hurt me. You doubt me even now?"

"How could I have trusted you? I left you poor, I could give you nothing. Then I return to find you wealthy, with my son and yet another child, what was I to believe? What woman does not lie?" Anger welled now. He stood and began to pull on his britches.

"Me, you could have believed _me._ I do not lie, you lie. They told me you were dead. Much, son of Locksley's miller? He and John Little came to York with that cur Archer. They told me you died with honour, in Robin's arms. That Robin, Vaisey and your sister had died also. Now you are here, parading as a cousin. In addition, Vaisey is no longer dead, but _hunting me._ Tell me is Robin Hood really dead or was that too a fiction?" Now Elias was up, pulling the blanket about her.

"Robin died by my sister's hand, and I am a wanted man with a price on my head. I cannot ever be myself again."

"Ha! But you can return to your old ways? Tell me, am I to await your needs the way I did? Is that to be the way of it again?"

"I could not believe you had held yourself a widow with my death. Why should you? I made you no promise, you would accept none. Damn you woman, I cannot wipe the past away. The man I was… he saw life, love as a battle to gain back and keep what was rightfully his. I have learned, at great expense, differently."

"You have learned seduction, _tis all."_ She swept away as if to walk back to the house.

"Do not walk away from me, Madame." Guy grabbed her arm and hauled her back to him. "I have seen a great man, live a good life. Should I not aspire to that?" He hesitated, and looked about, frowning."Hush!"

"Loose me…"

"Nay, hush, listen…" his voice a whisper, his stance, alert. "Men coming this way." He pushed her back towards the trees, behind him. Bending, he silently drew his sword.

"What 'ave we 'ere then? Is this what lord Vaisey paid you for cap'ain?" Vaisey's sergeant at arms stood arms akimbo, four heavily armed men behind him.

"What do you mean by this? Lord Vaisey charged me to…"

"Aye, to bring 'er back, not 'ave your way with 'er. Good job 'e trusts you not, I'd say." The man turned and laughed to his comrades, "Any ways, we're 'er to make sure she do get to 'im. In one piece so ta speak." He grinned across at Elias's semi naked figure behind Guy.

Guy saw the hungry look and snarled," she is my responsibility. I will discharge my obligation. The rest is none of your business." He lifted her discarded shawl and tossed it to her, and said curtly. "Cover yourself woman."

Elias gathered herself together, reaching for her shift, the blanket slipped. The sergeant's look grew dangerous.

"She's not for the likes of you, and I had plans for more sport here. You spoilt that, I will not forget it_, I promise_." Elias recognized the voice Guy used, it was to be feared, and the sergeant heard the threat there, he stood back, cowed, and turned to his men.

"Bind 'er."

"Tis unnecessary, she rides with me." Guy was saddling his horse.

"My lord Vaisey gave instructions, she was to be bound and led as we find 'er."

In one move, Guy had the man by the throat and hissed, "_I will take her as I see fit_ _and as I arranged_." He let the soldier drop with a look as if he could no longer bear the smell of him. Guy turned to Elias, the look pleading.

"Ready yourself, you come with me." Fully dressed now, he mounted and held his arm down to her.

"But, sir, I…" She tried keep her voice steady.

"Up, now." He did not even look at her. But she obeyed. He hauled up her in front of him, and whispered to her, "This is none of my doing, but be ready and remember I am de Lacy. I seduced you, what ever Vaisey asks, be on your guard." He snatched a kiss. "The moment I can, I will free you."

She was terrified, but feared more for her children. "The children…will he…?"

"Tis Vaisey, he is capable of anything, but I do not believe they followed me to the house. They seem unaware of anything but you. Be outraged, terrified, _but be_ _ready."_


	20. Chapter 21

The ride was tortuous, and no viable opportunity for escape presented itself. Guy gritted his teeth and laid out schemes and stratagems in his head. Oh, how he missed Hood's reckless, half-formed plans.

Elias, for her part, despaired, for her children, for Guy. Vaisey had been a threat to her and her family for so long that this reality had never been far from her mind. She had never believed_ him_ dead. Not as she had Guy.

Her prays to the Holy Mother and saint Anne to preserve all she loved in safety, kept her mind from the awful truth of their situation.

Guy prayed too, for divine intervention. Prayed, but continued on their way into Vaisey's own private hell.

They passed through the barbican and into the main courtyard with little fuss. They were expected.

"He was_ what_?" Vaisey's face broke into an almost benign smile.

"Fuckin' 'er, my lord. 'e 'ad 'er naked in the woods, 'e did," the sergeant reported, stern faced.

Vaisey folded his arms and chewed his thumb nail. This was an interesting turn of events. The cousins' taste in women so similar…? He grinned as a thought took him. Oh yes, this was good, this was justice.

"And where are they now?"

"On their way 'ere. As you instructed my lord." The sergeant looked pleased with himself. He was determined that the jumped up_ Captain_ de Lacy, would never threaten him again.

"Well, off you go and prepare a nice dungeon, we do have a spare one?"

"I believe we do, my lord."

"Hmm, get it ready for…well, we shall see."

Guy pulled Elias along beside him through the cold stone corridors towards Vaisey's solar.

"You must rail at me, rave, be distressed," he hissed at her.

She tried to keep up, her feet bare upon the freezing flagstones. She was still clad only in her shift and shawl, and the cold castle walls struck icily at her.

"If I can keep you safe for one more day, I will have all the intelligence needed. _Just_ _one day_."

"Ha, nice. Oh, very nice. The little seamstress is back in our fold. I have missed you." Vaisey slid forward as Guy pushed Elias forward into the darkened room. Outside, the sun had risen. The streets of the town began to stir, as tradesmen, artisans and housewives went about their business on the sunlit morn, ignorant of the drama being enacted in the castle.

Elias cursed the circumstance that had brought her to the market that day. Yes, she had Guy once more, but with him he carried the danger that would destroy them if it could.

Vaisey.

Assuming a disinterested stance, Guy held her upper arm tightly.

"Did she fight you de Lacy? Give you any trouble?" The older man stood too close and Elias shuddered.

"None, my lord. She was…most compliant, obliging even." Guy allowed a smirk to creep into his voice. Then he threw her a look of disdain.

Even though she knew it to be for show, it cut her.

"So I heard. Felt it necessary to fuck her did you? I do not remember giving any such instructions?"

"I thought it a boon, my lord. For the inconvenience."

"Well, I'm all for a little 'rape and pillage' when useful. But I may have wanted her ripe for myself. In future,_ ask_."

"I apologize, my lord." His voice sounded bored, unaffected by the act.

"Was she responsive… succulent?" Vaisey pondered her from the back, rubbing his chin, as though considering whether to buy a useful dog.

"For a peasant, she was tolerable good." How he spoke the words, he knew not. Inwardly, he seethed at the look of perverted interest, which had overtaken the other man's features.

"Oh, did I mention what my intentions for the little leper were?"

Guy maintained his composure. Phillip de Lacy cared nothing for any peasant woman.

"I do not believe you did, my lord."

The former sheriff ran a sharp nail along her shoulder. Elias gasped and shot forward. Vaisey smiled, his jeweled tooth glinting. He pinched her cheek, like an awful distortion of a maiden aunt. "Hmm…plumper." He ran the flat of his hand over her belly, leaning over her shoulder. His breath hot on her neck. "Oh, and a mother too. How _sweet_."

Elias tried to clench all her muscles tight so he would find no softness on her.

Guy clenched his jaw, sword hilt biting deep into his palm. Eyes begging Elias to forgive him as he watched his former master's lewd inspect the woman he loved.

"Yes, she will do very nicely." He paused, then sneered, "your child is Gisborne's?"

She refused to answer, turning her face from him.

"Oh, come sweeting, he's dead is he not? You no longer have to pretend you actually liked him." He stopped his teasing tone." Did you have his brats? A nice little daughter. Now that would be interesting. I could help with her… education. Oh, adopt her, that would be… suitably charitable." He chuckled alarmingly and stood back. "Well," picking up a piece of parchment from the table he turned to Guy. " I want you, de Lacy, to meet some of my guests. We are to have a gathering this even, just a few of my closest friends, like-minded men. With England's good at heart." The abrupt change of topic worried Guy.

"Is that so, my lord, and what of personal gain, will it be involved?"

"Our good is England's good, does that not follow?"

"Indeed, my lord." Guy hoped in vain that Vaisey was loosing interest in Elias.

"In the great hall you will find my lord Wessex, talk to him. I need to hear what a fresh pair of ears would make of him."

"Yes, my lord." Guy knew he would have to leave her. He had no choice.

As the door closed, Elias clenched her fists tighter.

"Well, little chick, here we are. Better late than never I suppose." He was close again, his breath on her face.

She drew back, he followed. He sniffed at her.

"I can still smell the stink of Gisborne cock on you. Methinks I should have you cleaned." He considered her, then turned to the nearby guard. "You, fetch water…No, wait." He smiled, it turned into a grin. "The entertainers that my lord of Wessex brought with him, where are they?"

The great hall of Leicester Castle was imposing, larger than Nottingham. The vaulted timbers high above were well carved and painted royal blue and gold. Tapestries of jewel colours, telling stories of mythological beasts, fairy queens and golden knights hung about the stone walls. There were few windows and the space was lit with the orange and yellow flicker of burning pitch torches. A massive frame hung from the high ceiling, it carried two dozen bees wax candles that burned bright and clear. The melted wax dripped into cupped holders, to be saved, remolded and used again

The room was hot, the trestles laid out in a horseshoe shape and weighed down with all manner of exotic fruits and wines. Twelve men in rich dark robes sat indolently enjoying the feast of well-roasted meats and clever pastries. The best that could be concocted.

Guy was seated, but silent. His cup, half full, had rested in his hand a full hour as he thought of the Black Knights, his former concerns, ambitions, and despaired of the man he once was.

Knew who they all were. He knew what these men were here for. Knew who they all were. Knew which could be bribed or 'convinced' to change their course. He had even mildly suggested a contact with his master, Count Baldwin, to one of the number. Sir Stephen of Huncote had expressed his disaffection with the cause of the Black Knights to 'de Lacy'. His own manor lay close by, and Vaisey had encroached too often onto his estates with no regard for his property. Sir Stephen was brother-in-law to the Earl of Shrewsbury, who had the ear of the king. Vaisey, in his arrogance, had thought to use the connection to his own ends. But he regarded Huncote as a young dolt and belittled him. Baldwin could use such rifts.

Then Guy's missions would be at an end, obligations fulfilled. He would be free to regain his life, his family.

If he still had one.

Elias was not in the dungeons. He had searched. She had not been taken from Vaisey's apartments. Guy had been told by the grinning guards, with knowing winks. Guy knew Vaisey would not rape her, he might well watch while others did, but sexual congress he reserved for young boys and younger girls these days.

With a shrug of disgust, Guy closed his mind to such thoughts. What Vaisey did with his whips though, that worried him.

But the lord of the castle had been sat at the head of the table for the last two hours, and Vaisey took his time with his pleasures. No, Elias was_ almost_ safe for now. At least while Vaisey was in his sight.

But once out of sight, it was entirely different. Guy had sent word that assistance was needed, but if the assistance was slow in coming or worse, the plea ignored, then all could be lost.

What meaning would his life have if she were gone from it?

His children, _their _children.

He drew himself inward. Self-respect, no longer based on position or wealth, his arrogance and anger, now replaced by the primal urge to protect his family.

"Gentlemen, my lords, your attention please." Vaisey clapped his hands. Faces turned to him, Guy's included. "Tonight's entertainment has _mostly_ been provided by my lord Wessex. Tumblers and such like." He waved in the general direction of the said lord, dismissively. "But the climax is a special treat from me, and I am sure of your enjoyment." He bowed as the company clapped and cheered.

The music thrummed and swelled now. The performers leaped and danced into the centre of the hall. Men clad in multi-coloured hoses, torsos bared. They tossed knives, batons and coloured scarves into the heated air. Their speed and agility, breathtaking. Knives were deftly caught. Batons twirled in nimble fingers and sailed upwards with flashes of silken ribbons catching the flickering light.

The music flowed and ebbed, crashed and thundered, following the frenetic rush of the actions.

Guy was watching his former master with care not to betray his concern. He spoke idly to the drunken knight at his side. The man practically dribbled as the women of the troupe slid between the men. Scantily dressed in ragged silks, they pressed their bodies against the now sweating acrobats. Guy was more than familiar with such '_entertainments_'.

It suddenly crashed through his brain what the climax Vaisey had eluded to would be.

Elias would be in this sensuous, writhing mass.

She would be the climax.

Wretchedly, he looked about him. He had to find her and somehow spirit her away from this. His message would still not have even reached its destination by now. He was her only hope.

He alone.

Too late, the music changed.

Gone was the crashing, thumping heat. Now it was a slow curling, sinewy whine.

The performers parted and an almost naked woman was led forward. Her hands were bound by a silken rope and she lurched, almost drunkenly, her eyes half closed.

Benumbed by some physic. Guy swore and closed his eyes.

Her body glowed a honey colour in the torch light. Her hair swung loose to her waist, its waves laced with glittering baubles. About her waist a girdle of a golden chain hung with shining coins that just covered her pubis. Her breasts were draped with sparkling multi-coloured stones; they swung with each faltering step.

Guy heard the lustful groans of the other men, saw the lips being licked at the sight of her.

Damn it, his own loins tightened and swelled at what he saw. She looked like the captive queen of an exotic land readied for her sacrifice.

Guy's soldiers mind ran over the odds at survival if he snatched her now?

Nil.

If he waited till after the 'entertainment'?

Better.

But could he wait and see her defiled by God knew what?


	21. Chapter 22

Elias was conscious of little but heat bearing down on her, colour flashing about her, the music that made her want to move her heavy limbs. Her world had shrunk to that which was immediate. Touch, sight and sound.

She could connect nothing in her head, all was disjointed and random. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms, leaning her head back. Her eyes closed.

The bound wrists puzzled, but did not alarm her. Nothing appeared threatening. She smiled and shook her hair about her, it was very strange. She found the feel of it falling about her shoulders most pleasurable.

A hand snaked across her buttocks; she shivered and turned, stumbling. A tall man caught her and held her. She giggled and swatted at his hands, that now stroked, held and cupped her.

Guy gripped the table's edge tight as he watched the acrobat turn to Elias's naked form, pawing at her, grabbing.

Vaisey took a gulp of his wine and smiled at the scene before him. He would revenge himself upon those who thwarted his ends.

He watched de Lacy closely, noting the man's studied indifference that, while it was meant to give the the impression of nonchalance, betrayed only more overtly his desperation. Vaisey preened and smiled to himself. How delicious it was to see the man's discomfiture. Oh and to have the elusive seamstress within his power again, what delights he planned for her. It was quite intoxicating.

Guy's control on his emotions was slipping. The hands touching her were careless and greedy. No matter that he had touched her that way, naught but a few hours ago. To see her thus manhandled appalled him.

Unable to watch he occupied his eyes with the surveillance of the hall. The noble Black Knights were debauching themselves with gusto. The drunken companion at his side now had a head bobbing betwixt his legs and was groaning enthusiastically. Whether the head was male or female Guy could not tell, nor did he wish to know.

There was a time, long gone, when he had taken part in entertainments such as these. But the drunkenness and the indiscriminate couplings had palled. He had experimented with Annie. But her simple minded adoration had bored him. Then he had taken Elias and his world had changed.

She made him angry, yet soothed him. Excited his passions then calmed him. If he beat her she waited, no reproach, no betrayal. And he had hurt her so much.

She had been like some mysterious physic that he needed to live. He had no understanding of this need. When he lost her, he floundered, burning Knighton to the ground the very next day. Railing against Marian and her father. Gradually he had seen glimpse of Elias in Marian and again pursued her in the hope she would give him what was missing. But that had been a disaster and pushed him further into Hell.

Now, when it seemed a life was there awaiting him, Vaisey, that devil incarnate, was there to drag him back .

Now his only thought was to free her from the obscenity that he and Vaisey had thrust her into.

On the cushion strewn floor, Elias tried to stand, to move away from the slippery muddle of bodies. Perceptions, confused and dimmed, showed her faces she almost knew, actions were familiar, but uncomfortable, and she shrugged them off.

Vaisey, the Lord of Misrule, noted that she was freeing herself from the tangle of lust. He could not allow that. She was there to be humiliated, defiled, raped as many times as it took for him to feel repaid for the loss of face she had caused.

He stood; disgusted that she might escape her rightful fate. Shoving aside sweating, heaving bodies, he kicked his way to her small twisting form.

"Hold her." He barked to two of the troupe. They obeyed without a word. And Elias was pulled back into the midst of the fray. "Well Missy, I think you may need my personal attention, mistress what-ever-you-call-yourself."

Guy saw with growing horror, what Vaisey was about to do.

"Bend her forward, yes…" He kicked her legs apart and unlaced his britches.

Guy was on his feet, this could not happen.

Vaisey grinned at the audience he had attracted, and sucked sloppily on two fingers. He was about to penetrate the now furiously wriggling Elias, when he felt the dagger at his throat.

"Touch her and you die Vaisey!"

"Oh I wondered when you would rear your asinine head Gisborne!"

"I waited as long as I needed, dog!" Guy gripped harder. "You have learned little, it would seem."

"And you even less, turd breath."

"Enough to hold you thus." The blade drew blood, and Vaisey winced. Guy had no real idea what course he should now take. They would needs get to the stables, or mayhap the good towns people could be persuaded to hide them as Hood and his men had been hidden. With the former sheriff as a hostage, chances of escape were marginal, but at least there was a chance.

But first he must get the stumbling drugged Elias away from this heaving hell.

"Tell you men to part the way for us, NOW!" Guy held the seething Vaisey in a death grip. He would not hesitate to kill this time.

Vaisey jerked his head and the startled guards' kicked and shoved bodies aside, leaving a path to the doors.

But Guy had not reckoned with Elias, he could not hold his prisoner and pull her with him.

"Tell them to cover her and take her to the doors."

"Cover her! How courtly of you, my how you've changed. I recall your enthusiastic contributions to our…feasts of delight." Even with a knife at his throat Vaisey was a swine.

"Quiet your tongue you cur, or I'll cut it out."

As they approached the doors Elias saw him, she tore herself from the soldiers who hauled her forward, and cried out a startled: "Guy!" as she caught sight of the hilt of a sword as it came crashing down on the back of her beloveds head.

Guy saw only darkness.


	22. Chapter 23

The darkness was not complete; if it had been, then perhaps the fear may not have been so great. In complete darkness, she could have imagined herself in a dream. But the tiny thread of light allowed that this was the real world, and here horror lingered.  
The cell, if cell it was, seemed small. Elias could feel walls at both sides of her if she spread her arms. The cold stone, gritty and damp beneath her fingers, led her to believe she was below the level of the ground. The dungeons then.

Her head ached as though all the demons of hell raced and pounded in it. Vague glimpses of the great hall invaded her mind. Accompanied by odd snatches of words, not understood.  
And the dreadful sight of Guy crashing to the floor, his life's blood staining the rushes.  
Her body was sore, scratched and bruised. Vaisey had ripped away the little covering she had. So her nakedness was complete. No glinting baubles or shiny coins, not even the discarded cloak that had been thrown over her shoulders at Guy's instruction. She was naked as the day born, but strangely glad of it, free of all Vaisey's trappings.  
But where was Guy? Did he still live? How long would she?  
She called softly, "Guy, are you there, is anyone there?" She was rewarded by the sounds of shuffling, grunts and the occasional moan.  
Then the abrupt clang of chains.  
"Aye, I am here. Are you bound?" his voice croaking, but was steady and close.  
"I am not, but I can see little. Where are you, you are hurt?" In her mind's eye she saw his beautiful face, blood seeping.  
"Nay, my head hurts damnably but 'tis all." The chains rattled again as he moved. "Vaisey, he did not…?"  
She stifled a laugh, and shook her head. "He was too interested in kicking you, to concern himself with diversion that I _might _offer."  
A scraping of metal, the scuff of footfalls and the ringing tones of Lord Vaisey cut through their exchange.  
"Oh, how charming, the lovers are chit chatting! Like your accommodations? A clue, _I do not care._"  
Suddenly, Elias was flooded with light; she could see nothing because of it. Glare stung her eyes. She turned her head away as she was dragged up and out into the cold centre of the dungeon.  
"Not as enticing today, are we!" Vaisey sneered, then turned his attention to Guy. "And you, dear boy. Back to haunt me I see. Also, not very impressive."  
Guy snarled and threw himself forward, the chains biting into his flesh, but still he strained to reach his nemesis.  
"Oh, we are in a mood, are we not?" Vaisey laughed and stroked his beard. "Well, we have a nice little oubliette for the pair of you. When, of course, I have enjoyed all you have to offer." He raised an eye brow and sniffed. "Though in all honesty, it does not seem you offer much."  
"Free her, let her go. She is nothing to you. You have me. Do what you will with _me_." Guy was desperate.  
Vaisey's amusement at Guy's self sacrifice was huge. When he regained his control and his chortling ceased, he coughed out. "Oh, I want you both, dear boy! And I hear you have a family, two daughters and a son, is it?" he said over his shoulder to his guard, who nodded confirmation. "Mayhap they can join us later, in our fun, hmm, what do you think to that?"  
Guy hurled himself uselessly at the cause of his misery.  
Elias threw her naked body upon him, battering and biting.  
_"You will…not…hurt my…children_!" She was dragged, screaming curses at the surprised, but amused Vaisey.  
"Oh, but this will be fun. Secure her…" He looked about him thoughtfully. "There." He chose a spot opposite Guy. "Never say I am not a romantic soul. Now you can gaze at each other as we enjoy your…chastisement." He caught the look of recognition in Guy's face. "You thought I had forgotten my desire for your little friend? No not I. My need to mark her has grown. And at last, at last I _will_ have my way."  
"Touch her and I swear I will…" Guy knew it was pointless, but he struggled forward against his chains nevertheless.  
"You will what? Come back from the dead…again? By the way how did you do that? No never mind, I do not really care." Vaisey sneered as he advanced with his guard close about him. "Hold him down!"  
Guy was forced to the floor, his head dragged back so he was compelled to look into Vaisey's face.  
"Did I mention that I quite like pale male flesh, too?"  
"My lord, there is a messenger from the king. It would seem to be urgent." A clerk had entered the chamber and announced the news of the king's communication without a glance at the prisoners.  
"Oh, God's bollocks, what next? Am I always to be harassed thus by that ingrate?" He turned away and grunted orders to his waiting soldiers. "Well, it would seem I will have to wait for my entertainment." He swiped at Gisborne's lowered head and strode away.  
Oddly, the clerk did not follow. He hung back as the assorted soldiery took their places on guard.  
Elias, exhausted, was chained to the floor just out of Guy's reach, but close enough that he could whisper to her.  
_"Look at the scribe, look close,_" he hissed.  
She sighed and rubbed her face, and looked up into the beaming smile of Much of Bonchurch, the son of the Locksley Miller.  
His expression quickly changed as a guard approached him.  
"What are you lookin' at _monk!_ She's not for you to ogle. Get yoursel' back to your books."  
"Humph, I'll have you know that…" The guard pulled Much away by the scruff of his neck, "Well do you not think she should have aught to cover her, for Christian decency?"  
The guard shoved Much away and snapped, "Then give 'er your cloak, monk!"  
Much straightened himself and stuck out his chin in defiance.  
"Then by St Martin, that is what I shall do" He took off his cloak and hesitantly tossed it to Elias. As she gratefully draped it about her freezing body, a tiny cloth bundle fell into her lap. She scurffed it up and sat it under her.  
The guard pushed Much toward the door. But the millers son turned and giving a benediction to her, called, "and remember your compline office."  
"Jesu, what does he think we may do? Pray our way out?" Guy slumped back, despondent.  
But Elias smiled as she worked loose a long darning needle free from the cloth. All she needed to pick the lock of her chains. And if she understood Much's meaning aright, they needs wait for the compline bell, for then, rescue may be at hand.


	23. Chapter 24

Elias clutched the coarse woollen cloak about her and bowed her head, dejected. But in truth she disguised her true occupation, the careful manipulation of the long darning needle in the lock of her chains.

Guy sat, his forearms resting on his knees, watching the guards as they settled at their posts. They paid little attention to the prisoners. As Elias was now covered there was little to look at. The men hunched back against the walls and gained what comfort they could there, as they stood their watch, unworried.

His brow furrowed deeper, questioningly at her, what now? Much had to have had a plan, was this it? That they release themselves?

Ah, he thought, 'twas one of Hood's!

Elias's cold fingers were cramped and stiff; the tiny movements needed to trip the mechanism seemed beyond her. Desperation caught her, she bit her lip hard and small tears slid down her cheeks, she sniffed angrily and wiped at her nose with back of her hand. She would not submit to Vaisey, they _would not_ die in this place.

The click was loud enough for Guy to hear, but not it seemed the guards.

A commotion outside brought the guards to attention, and Vaisey was back with them. He turned abruptly.

"You, out, no one comes in here till I say so. Is that clear?" He barked at the guards. Only the two jailors remained. They enjoyed and understood their craft as much as their master, and assisted him in his 'pleasures' "I do apologise my dear friends, but there seems some devilry is afoot. An attempt to divert my guards. I suppose you have no knowledge of this?" He kicked viscously at Guy's legs, and was rewarded with a pained grunt. "Ah, my patient guests, did you miss me? No? Oh, you do disappoint. Old friends such as we, have so much to reminisce about. Treachery, betrayal, misplaced loyalties and…" He leaned close, so close to Elias's face that she felt his damp and sour breath on her cheek. "The temptations of flesh…especially pink, creamy, plump flesh." The words were enunciated in an exaggerated, lascivious manner.

She recoiled, turning her body from him.

"What loveday? No caress for me? No kisses?" His mouth pantomimed a mockery of a kiss. He grinned, straightened and turned to Guy, who watched him, the cold gleam of murder in his eyes.

"My materiel flageller, if you please." Vaisey lifted his hand to his shoulder and waited as a skulking jailor hurried forward with an open hide bound casket. "Ah, my favourites" He lifted out a whip, its handle woven with scarlet silks. Stroking it lovingly, almost gently. "I have them made in Paris, my man there, _specializes_ shall we say. It takes him so long to find just the right willow sapling." He frowned as he warmed to his subject. "If the wood dries out too quickly, you see, becomes brittle. 'Tis ruined." He sighed regretfully, stroking the object of his affection.

Elias shivered, she held the manacles closed, awaiting the right time to free herself. Guy gritted his teeth and jerked at his chains.

Vaisey was startled out of his reverie by the sound, his head jerked upwards angrily. "Hmm, yes, well they do say for the most perfect work 'tis best to use the most precise instruments, and this…" He snapped the fine length of silk encased willow through the air. It halted inches from Guy's right eye. "Is very precise."

The smiling Vaisey licked his lips and drew the tip down the younger man's cheek.

"Oh Gisborne you have no idea what I could have shown you. Such delights that would have made you weep at the purity of the pain, the colour of that pains evidence. The blush of the wheal as it fills with blood and swells." He groaned and drew the lash lovingly down his own cheek.

"You are a mad man." Guy spat out.

"Oh, for shame, you think me mad?" the older man laughed, a low menacing chuckle. "Who here is free? Who here is most likely to survive the night? Answer? Me! So if mad I am then it is a fine madness, to offer such pleasures and freedom."

With no forewarning, he swung the lash in a graceful backward arc and brought it down across Elias's naked buttock.

Her eyes went impossibly wide; the jolt of the sudden stinging blow, stole her voice. Her mouth opened, but any cry was erased by the shock.

"_Bastard, I will kill you." _Guy cried out as he struggled forward hopelessly against his chains.

"Raise her up." Vaisey ordered. The jailors hauled the dazed, naked Elias to her feet. "Oh she is special, so pert still, after childbirth too. Hmm, if anything it has mellowed the brightness of the skin; it glows rather than shines now." He ran a fingertip along the angry red wheal that stained her bottom.

"_DO- NOT- TOUCH- HER!" _Guy roared at him. His face contorted by fear and rage. It was his selfish desires had brought her to this. And now he could do nothing.

"And you will do what?" With another slicing turn, Lord Vaisey caught Guy across the cheek. He smiled at the pain filled grimace that tore Guy's face.

And the compline bell sounded.

Elias held her breath.

Nothing.

Vaisey slid the handle of the whip beneath her breasts, lifting them slightly.

"Yes here next I think. I do so like the swell, just here." His stubby finger slithered along the crest of her. She tried to squirm away from his touch, but he was too close. She felt the grubby paw of one of the jailors, pawing at her injured buttock. The man grinned lewdly at her. It was more than she could stand.

"NO!" Tearing free at last, she stumbled, colliding with Vaisey. Startled, he crashed to the ground.

At that moment the door of the dungeon swung open and helmeted and mail clad soldiers tumble forward down the stairs and into the room.

"What the…" Lord Vaisey scrabbled to his feet, while the two jailors grabbed for Elias's twisting form.

"Fie brother, but you pick your battles badly!" A tall well built man lifted off his helmet. The handsome face grinned smugly at the stunned figure of Guy of Gisborne.

"_Archer."_ Guy groaned, disbelieving. "You laggard scoundrel!"

"'Tis good to see you too, brother." Archer laughed as his long sword came slicing down through the poorly made chains.

"Ever the cheapskate Vaisey?" Much rolled his eyes.

Guy was on his former master in a moment. He had the older man pinned to the floor. "Your sword Archer, _your sword_. I would have this maggots head _now."_

"_No, Guy no!"_ Elias was not so dazed by the turn of events that she did not see the wrong of another death on Guy's head. "Shackle him, throw him into the oubliette, but do not have his blood on your hands. Let your conscience be free of one death at least." Guy pulled back ferociously, ready to push Elias away from him.

"We do not have time for this brother, kill him and be done."

But Guy looked at Elias as she tried to hold what dignity she could with only Much's cloak about her. She was his conscience, his redemption. Head flung back, he shoved the quaking Vaisey from him, stood and gathered her into his arms.

"Let it be over."

"Prettily done…" Vaisey was up and his dagger at Guy's throat. "You traitorous scum, you will wish you had killed me."

But he spoke no more. A strange frown of disbelief crossed his face. He clutched at his neck, but the blood that flowed there, kept on coming.

"Wha…" he slithered to the floor, his lifes blood pooling about him.

Elias drew back, and cast the short sword she had snatched from John Little's big hands, to the ground. She was aghast at what she had done.

Vaisey was dead, really dead this time, and by her hand.

Little John, sighed and pushed at the body with his boot. "Well, I would say he is dead, and we should leave."

He sounded very reasonable. Elias thought. Her mind divorcing it's self from the act she had just preformed.

"We are free." Guy said quietly, shaking his head, almost laughing.

"Not if we stay here any longer!" Archer pulled his older brother by the sleeve, back toward the stairs.

Escape, not the death of their greatest enemy, was now their object.


	24. Chapter 25

"'Tis no good the guards are alerted, they will be on us anon," Guy was the soldier again. "What was your plan for escape...? You did have a plan?" He looked at Archer, who shrugged. "Do not tell me…" Guy's eye's went heavenward.

"This was it, we thought we would improvise, once the fair lady, and yourself, of course, where rescued." Much looked affronted.

Guy sneered at his brother. "Free the rest of the prisoners, they'll cause a diversion. If we are fortunate we can get to the postern gate afore the confusion is solved."

Archer slapped his half brother heartily on the back. "That's what I love about you brother, you think on your feet."

"Aye, and he'll die on his feet if we don't move now," John muttered as he went about the task of opening up the other cells.

Elias clung to the only covering she had, and helped herd the confused and frightened prisoners from their chains. She leaned forward and Archer raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Fine arsed woman you have there Guy, though I think she may need a little more to cover her, if we are to attract no attention, that is?"

Guy glared at the younger man, then strode to Vaisey's prone body and heaved off the dead man's, blood stained britches and shirt. He almost threw them at Elias. "Dress," he snapped.

Surprised, and a little discouraged by the blood, but gratified that they were better than the cloak, she pulled ill fitting clothes on.

Archer smiled, Much looked prim, and Guy scowled.

John just sighed. "Come lady; let us return you to your children." He led her to the stairs, among the now more enthusiastic escapers.

At the doors, Archer and Guy stood, swords in hands, ready.

Guy leaned to the crowd behind him. "Once through the doors, run, fight, do whatever you need. We will hold the guards as long as we can."

Elias looked at him; to lose her love now would be intolerable. She turned to John. "I am afraid for him."

"I know lady, but he fights for you, do not disappoint him." John spoke as a father to a child.

Elias pulled the lacings of Vaisey's britches tighter.

"NOW!" Guy yelled as he and Archer sprang through the door hacking and swinging at the surge of guards coming against them.

All was confusion, the prisoners burst forward into the light, regardless of the slashing swords and pushing mail-protected soldiers. Freedom was within their grasp, Vaisey dead, the rush of freed souls took their chances and ran.

In the melee that followed, Elias held fast to John, he had appointed himself her guardian, coming between her and the hacking, bloody fight. He took a blow that would have felled a smaller man, she launched herself at the attacker kicking and punching at the amazed soldier. Losing sight of Guy, she caught a glimpse of Archer as he seemed to fall to the ground, only to flip a man above him and spring back to his own feet with the grace of a dancer.

Then she was being dragged by John along a palisade, and out into the open courtyard.

Soldiers ran towards them, as if to attack. But John shouted, "Fools, prisoners are escaping!" And pointed with his sword toward the keep. The men looked at each other and then ran where he pointed. Elias looked at him questioningly. But he just shrugged. To qualify as a castle guard, brains were not a prerequisite it seemed.

Then they were out of the castle. Normal people moved about their business. Children ran past chasing a dog playfully.

In an nearby alley way, Elias leaned heavily against a wall and tears seeped down her cheeks, her body shuddered.

"Do not take on so lass…" John hugged her to him. She found herself buried in his great chest.

"I killed him, I cut his throat…" Her eyes shut tight. She convulsed into heaving sobs. John held her safe.

"You rid the world of a truly evil man. You saved your love and your babes. There was justice there."

"But… I… kill…ed him," she gasped.

"The hand of God worked here, child, gave you the strength to do what you had to."

She sobbed on, John went on holding her up.

And that was how Much found them.

"Come, we have horses and a cart, all hell has let loose in the castle. We needs be away." He led them to the edge of the town.

When she saw a tall man leaning forward over the cart, her heart surged and she ran to him, he turned and she threw herself into his arms, kissing him wildly.

"Do not ever leave me again, you dog, I'll make such a scene that you will be afeared to go out, lest I follow you ever!"

"Oh, will you? Then we best not tell Guy, for I know him to be a little…jealous?" Archer laughed and kissed her back, too vigorously for it to be mistaken for family affection.

"OH!" Elias struggled in his arms, then found herself bodily hauled away.

"Wench, I leave you for an hour and then find you in the arms of my brother, what faithlessness is this?" But Guy was grinning. She wound her arms about his neck and kissed him thoroughly.

"Then do not leave me again, 'tis simple."

Much coughed discreetly, John smiled indulgently and Archer looked on, his curiosity piqued.

Love, was to him, a word that wenches adored to hear. He said it often to quiet them, but to see two people so obviously in need of each other, well 'twas a puzzlement indeed.

"Home, Guy, can we go home?"

"Aye, love, let us go home."


	25. Chapter 26

The world has turned full circle.

Elias plaited her hair and sighed at the chore, mayhap she should do as nuns do and have Hilde cut it off?  
Pinning it in back, she smoothed the large oblong of white linen across her forehead, covering her hair completely, then twisted either end, tying them at the crown of her head and tucking in the ends carefully.  
There, she was pleased with the results she saw in her burnished mirror. Neat, respectable, housewifely.  
She came down the stairs smoothing the freshly starched apron. The mix that Hilde had used was weaker than usual; it did not hold the cloth so well as it should. She mused on housekeeping duties as she moved to close the parlour door.  
With a jolt, she found herself snatched about the waist and pulled into the room. The door shut with a 'bang'.  
Guy pushed her against the wall, nuzzling her throat, dragging at her skirts hurriedly.  
"I cannot mind, do I want your mouth? Your cunny…" He smirked, bit at her ear, murmuring low, "mayhap your delicious rose?"  
"No, Phillip…no." She tried to push away his greedy hands.  
"'Tis Guy that wants you, kiss me. God's eyes but I need to fuck you. Kiss me, now." He bit at her throat.  
"No…let me be." She wriggled as his hand reached her mound, pushing with unforgiving fingers.  
"Stop wriggling woman, and kiss me." It was urgently said now.  
"Is to be thus again?" She was infuriated.  
"Hmm, I like you angry." He grinned greedily, lifting her, pushing his eager shaft to fill her. "Cunny it is then." He groaned.  
Elias gasped and cried out. "You cannot…" Then she clung to him. "Oh, Mother of Heaven. Yes." She was furious with him, but it was Guy and he was in her.  
"The table…on the table…" He was breathless.  
"No…the door…Oh, my…the door…someone might…"  
Guy swung her round and tried to push a chair against the door. His hip shrieked _NO_.  
"Suffering Christ!"  
Elias found herself on the floor, Guy above her. She giggled, he laughed. His shaft had slipped from her.  
"You fire me, woman." He pushed back in, steadying himself on one hand. With the other, he pulled the carefully arranged coif from her head, freeing the thick plait. "There, I like this better."  
"You are impossible…I…"But his mouth silenced further complaint.  
And he thrust; she rose up to meet his every movement, praying that the children would not push against the door. This was pure foolishness.  
And they came together. On the best Turkey carpet.  
His breathing, harsh and heavy gasps. Elias bit her lip, lest the sounds of their lovemaking bring curious offspring to investigate.  
"Mam? Is that you?"  
Guy rolled off his wife, sighed and chuckled. "When will we get peace?"  
Outside the door, they could hear voices.  
"But Seth, 'Tis the forenoon. Oh, and in the parlour!" The female voice shuddered its distaste.  
A man, laughing, rejoined, "They were ever thus, and I wish them well of it."  
A woman squealed, "Seth, no!"  
Elias buried her face in Guy's open doublet to hide her embarrassed giggles. Guy stretched out on the Turkey carpet, pulling her tighter into him.  
"Our son's wife needs think herself blessed! Do you remember the first time I fucked you?"  
"How should I forget it? I was terrified, you were a brute." She let her mind go back and shivered.  
"I have thought on it much these last years." Rubbing his chin in her hair, he closed his eyes. "I know I despoiled you, but I never had done that before, nor since, only you."  
Elias looked up curiously at him. "Then why me?"  
"When I first saw you, you were stood in the doorway of the kitchens. I don't think I had ever seen such glorious hair, and so much…you looked like a nymph from some Norse myth." He kissed the top of her head. "And I fancied you looked at me, and saw a shining hero."  
"I did. You looked so handsome. Oh, and you smiled at me, such a smile." The incident was clouded by time, the edges softened.  
"It was a long time before I thought of you again." He stroked her hair and sighed. "So much evil I did, so much harm I caused. I believed what Vaisey had taught me. That only a fool would expect others to give willingly, that all must be taken. Fortune, respect, by force if need be, but taken nevertheless. Love was but another word for fucking to him...Then, that night…"  
"Shush, 'twas long ago, and forgotten now, like Vaisey himself."  
"I do not forget. I was drunk, he goaded me and I saw the delightful nymph. But you irked me. So quiet, so dignified. How dare you have nothing and still be proud? I had ambitions, concerns, politics, but they all still left me wanting." He sighed. "So I took you." He stroked her cheek softly.  
"And now we have our family. 'Tis past, think on something more joyous, we have plenty to give thanks for."  
"But it was what I saw in your eyes after, that kept me needing you. I saw you pitied me."  
"And pity drew you?"  
"Nay, I wanted not your _compassion_." He chuckled. "It made me angry, so angry."  
"And now your revenge is to now make_ me_ angry?"  
"Hmm…" He growled and let his hand snake and span her belly. "My revenge...is to fuck you till you scream and fill you with my babes." He was above her again, grinning and nuzzling at her ear. "How old is Robert now?"  
"He will be five come Michaelmas." Elias feigned censure. "We have six children and two grandchildren; time, my husband, for you to show restraint!" Her breath caught. His mouth at her breast.  
In truth, she did not want his restraint, she wanted _him_. It had always been him. No other man had ever caught her attention. His passion, his anger, she took them all willingly.  
And she kissed him.  
Guy of Gisborne or Phillip de Lacy, she cared not which.  
It would never end, when they were gone, their story would survive, somewhere.


End file.
